


When The Pain Stops

by Trawler



Series: Growing Pains [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), IronStrange - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Flying Monkeys, IronStrange, M/M, Mpreg, Obsessive Movie References, Part 1, Projectile Vomit, Romance, Snark, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 19:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 149,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trawler/pseuds/Trawler
Summary: Part 1 of the Growing Pains series.The remaining Avengers have finally defeated Thanos on Titan, and now the survivors must take the long voyage home. After a bitter confrontation with Stephen Strange leaves him questioning himself, Tony Stark tries to drink away his pain.But over the course of the voyage they become friends, gradually inching to something closer. When they finally reach Earth, a disastrous attempt to patch things up with Pepper drives Tony to Stephen's bed, and a one-night stand.Dealing with the aftermath, Tony and Stephen are forced to bench their feelings as a new threat to Earth reveals itself in the form of the mystical Undying Ones. And later - when magical meddling from the Cloak of Levitation results in Tony becoming magically pregnant with Stephen's child - the two must work together not only to deliver and raise the baby, but to resolve their relationship... and save the world.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Endgame, but written before Endgame was released. Part 1 of the Growing Pains series.

I stared at Thanos’s corpse.

A Titan. A god, or at least he’d tried to be. No – I wouldn’t let him have that title, however much he’d raised himself above the rest of us. He’d been a demon, the kind that could wipe out half the Universe with a single snap of his fingers. In life he’d been a giant; in death, he was reduced, a lesser man, a shell of the spirit he’d once housed. 

Whoever said that the larger they were, the harder they fell, had it right. So, so right. The tattered remains of his body would have been pitiable… if I was capable of pity for this monster. If I had a single ounce of compassion left in me, after his actions had systematically stripped away almost every part of me. 

But my pity was gone. All I wanted to do now was take the broken husk of his body, set it on fire, and piss on what was left. And even then it wouldn’t be enough to vent my rage.

Thanos was dead. The Infinity Stones were hidden. It was over. I was injured – F.R.I.D.A.Y was telling me that, loud and clear, almost shouting at me through the suit’s ear-piece – but I couldn’t feel anything. Not yet.

Pain would come soon. I knew that. Pain, joy – they were both knife edges of the same emotion, when you stripped away all the trappings. Right now, I was numb. I needed to hold on to that feeling just a little longer. 

A maelstrom of dust was rising around us. People I’d thought lost forever – the boy as close as family, the unlikely allies I’d come to fight beside – were coming back to life, re-written into existence. But I couldn’t look at them. I fixed my eyes on the ground, willing it to open up and swallow me whole.

A hug. Arms around me. A young voice. Crying.

Not just crying but sobbing, great, gut-wrenching, choking noises that tore at the numbness I tried to hold around me.

“I’m sorry,” Peter wept. “I was lost in the dark and I couldn’t find you…”

“I’m here,” I croaked, turning to pull him close. Part of me broke at the confusion in his voice. Everywhere he pressed against my suit burned, but I knew the pain was only in my mind. “I’m here, Petey, I’m so sorry…”

I hugged him hard. Moisture stung my face, soaking into my beard. I ignored it.

“Stark.”

I looked up, instinctively trying to shield Peter against whatever this new threat might be, the adrenaline in my system keeping me in high alert. 

Stephen fucking Strange. Friend? Enemy? At this point the lines were so blurred that I couldn’t tell anymore. I had to talk to him – and soon – but getting Peter off this God-forsaken rock was more important.

“What do you want, Strange?”

A slew of emotions crossed his face, too quickly to identify. I didn’t want to know what he was feeling, what he was thinking, in case it was mirrored on Peter’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head in a slight nod.

“I didn’t do this for you, asshole,” I growled. I tensed, my body recognising that it had a new target. Only Peter’s scared little cry held me in check.

“I know why you did this.” Strange’s face now was smooth, whatever he felt now locked down and out of sight. 

“Can we maybe save this for later?” Natasha said, walking between us, pausing to help Quill to his feet. Dazed, the self-styled Star Lord stared at his hands as if he’d never seen them before. “Like maybe when we’re sat on a beach in Mexico drinking tequila?”

“You think they’re just gonna welcome us home with open arms?” I demanded.

She gave Peter a pointed look. “Some of us.”

 

I cornered Shuri as soon as we got back on board _The Black Hole,_ our commandeered Reaver ship.

“Check him over,” I growled, pushing Peter toward her. He stumbled. Shuri steadied him. 

“What’s happening?” he asked, looking back at me, still sounding so plaintive and lost that it broke what was left of my heart. “Mr Stark, did we win?”

“We won,” I rasped, gripping his shoulder. Squeezing too hard. “We won, kiddo. You did good.”

His smile was small, puzzled. Tight with anxiety. “I don’t remember.”

Shuri – taking pity on him, or me, or even the both of us – eased my hand away from his shoulder.

“You must be Peter Parker, yes?” she asked in a soothing tone. “The one they call the Spider-Man?”

“Yes…”

“My name is Shuri. Why don’t you come with me, I’ll make sure you’re OK and fill you in on a few blanks.”

“But Mr Stark…” He looked back at me over his shoulder.

“Mr Stark will be having an examination of his own soon. You’re hurt and need attention, especially those of you who were…” She hesitated.

“Snapped,” I said.

She winced. The term had spread like wildfire around the Earth. I hated it. She hated it. But it stuck. There wasn’t a soul on the planet – or off it – who hadn’t been affected by the Decimation.

“Send them to me.” Her voice was soft. 

 

I retreated. Physically, mentally, I just had to get away from all these people. I didn’t know any of the crew, other than the captain; he was a buddy of Rocket’s, apparently, but he wasn’t a buddy of mine. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. So I took off to the tiny cabin I’d been assigned for the voyage.

Slapping the panel on my ARC reactor, I de-activated the suit, the metal disintegrating as billions of nanoparticles retreated back into the storage unit. The sharp reek of sweat filled my nose, sweat and blood.

I slumped onto the narrow bunk, hands over my face. I was bleeding onto the blanket. I didn’t care. I’d stopped caring about a lot of things. The suit was good at hiding injuries; if I just bit the big one here and now, who would mourn?

“You’re bleeding, Man of Iron.”

I pulled my hands away from my face, struggling to sit up. I looked down at my body, dispassionate, as if it belonged to someone else. I was wearing black jeans and a simple white tank top. Now they were dirty, stained with sweat, dirt and blood, illuminated by the pale blue glow of the ARC reactor.

I looked up. Thor was standing in the doorway, massive arms crossed. I didn’t know why he’d cut his hair, but it stopped him looking like a Viking cosplay reject. We hadn’t talked much. Mostly because I was frightened that, once I started, I’d start yelling at him.

“So are you,” I grunted.

“I survived the inferno of a dying star.” His voice was a deep rumble, always on the edge of a British accent. That had always struck me as funny – he was an Asgardian, an alien, but he spoke English. “These wounds don’t trouble me. But you’re human.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head. “Fragile humans. If you don’t mind, this one is busy trying to bleed to death.”

“I cannot allow that.”

“You cannot…” Just like that, my anger flared out of control. I surged to my feet, ignoring the way everything hurt, ignoring the way the room was starting to sway. Must have lost more blood than I’d thought. “You’re standing right there, _right_ there in front of me, and you’re telling me about things you simply _cannot_ allow. How about when you _allowed_ Thanos to slaughter half of the Universe?”

“I did not –” His heavy blonde brows creased, fire snapping behind his blue eyes.

“You should have gone for his fucking head! He even told you that! He couldn’t snap his goddamned fingers if he didn’t have a working brain!” I reached up to flick my fingers at his forehead; he weaved away, arms still crossed.

“I almost died to forge a weapon capable of inflicting mortal injury on the Mad Titan.” Despite the emotion in his eyes, he seemed calm. I had no idea how. “That he did not die is a burden I must carry with me every single day for the rest of my life. That he lies dead now is no compensation – for the confusion caused to those he wrote out of existence, and for the suffering of those left behind. _That_ suffering, _that_ sorrow, holds my heart in chains.”

I glared at him. My fury, washing against the implacable wall of his calm, began to burn itself out, turning inward and burning what little of me I had left. I turned away – well, more staggered than turned – and dropped back onto the bed.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “See, my mouth does this whole ‘speak first, think later’ thing, and it gets me in trouble.” I sighed. “You’re the only one up until today who was ever able to do him any real damage. I’m a dick. Just… go chug a tankard of mead or something, go celebrate.”

Thor finally entered the room, stopping a few feet away from the bed, hands on his hips. He took up a lot of space.

“Until we are all healed, Stark, there is nothing to celebrate.”

I’d lost track of how mashed up Thanos had left me, and that was only counting the wounds he’d inflicted during this fight. I had scars from the last fight, too.

“Look, I’m only gonna be a party-pooper. So let me wallow in my own self-pity so I can quietly bleed to death, will ya?”

“I understand your reticence.” His eyes narrowed; he was thinking. Big and blonde – guys like that were always trouble when they started thinking. “You do not wish to return to Earth. We cannot change the past –”

“Uh, cursed Time Stone – or maybe it was a time loop, I never could work it out – Doctor Strange, secret plan? Pretty sure that was _exactly_ what we did. Things kinds went all kind of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey back there.” I wiggled my fingers.

Thor looked blank. 

“Pop culture references.” I rolled my eyes. “Petey would wet himself if he found out I watch _Doctor Who._ ”

“The point I am trying to make is that the past has been unkind to you,” Thor said. “But I have heard it called another country – you cannot return to it, only make your own future.”

“The past has been unkind to me?” I moved so that I was on the edge of the bed, back straight, hands lightly resting on my knees. “You have no _idea_ what the past has done to me!” Fresh anger vibrated through my body, the old fury I felt every time I made the mistake of allowing myself to think. 

“Forgive me.” He inclined his head, instantly dissipating my anger. God, these mood swings were more exhausting than combat. “I meant no disrespect.” He hesitated. “Even though Thanos is dead and the Universe restored, like you, I still lost everything. My home planet was destroyed. A refugee ship full of my people was blown to pieces. My family is dead. The woman I gave my heart to… well, she gave it back,” he added with an awkward shrug.

I relaxed my stiff posture, letting my back slump, resting my forearms on my knees. His problems made mine seem trivial by comparison. At least my planet still existed, even though I wasn’t sure whether I could call it home anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I said. If he could apologise, I could, too.

“I tell you this not to earn your pity,” he replied. “I tell you because I do not intend to sit back and let the past destroy me. There may be other Asgardians spread throughout the Universe, and with Valkyrie I intend to find them all, even if it takes until the end of time.”

“That’s… well, that’s quite a thing to put on your bucket list. You gonna team up with Carol Danvers, too? Pretty sure you had a little chemistry going there.”

He shrugged. “She did not return with us to the ship. She has her own destiny to follow. But I ask you simply – will you let your past define you?”

“I can say, with all honesty, that I have no idea how to answer that question.”

“You have but one choice. You can lay back and give in, accept whatever is to come… or you can get up and fight for what you believe in.”

“Tried that,” I croaked. “Didn’t go so well.”

“Then if you will not fight to protect yourself… fight to protect those you love. The pup they call Spider-Man – he needs your guidance now more than ever.”

“You had to bring up my goddamned Achilles heel.”

“If your heel pains you, I’m certain Shuri can treat that,” Thor said, deadpan. “As she can treat your other physical wounds. Come with me, Stark, and take back your future.”  
Helluva motivational speech. 

“Alright,” I said, stifling a groan as I hauled myself up. “I’m sold.” I staggered again, only Thor’s firm grip on my arm keeping me upright. “Is there any way you can get me to Shuri with my dignity intact?”

“Wearing those clothes?” His smirk – though annoying – was a welcome sight. “No, Man of Iron. That ship has already sailed.”

 

Wondering when Thor had become such an expert on fashion – and secretly envying him all the leather gear he’d tricked himself out in – we made it to the section of the ship Shuri had set up as a triage. It was hard to reconcile the woman patiently working through a line of the walking wounded with the girl I’d known back in Wakanda. She was confident, brave, and smart, with the will to keep her people together through the fallout of the Decimation.

My body was present while she treated my wounds, but I let my mind drift. It was still back on Titan. Maybe the last couple months had all been a dream – a terrible, horrible nightmare – and I really was still back on Titan, dying under the red sun, my body going into shock due to organ damage. I kept replaying that moment again and again in my head, the moment Thanos had turned my own nanite blade against me. I could still recall, with perfect clarity, the agony as it sliced through my skin –

“Mr Stark.”

Shuri’s voice broke through the introspection. I focussed on her, but it was an effort.

“Here. Present.” I lifted a hand. “Just tick my name off on the register.”

She wasn’t smiling. “You have extensive injuries,” she explained. “The medical supplies on this ship are better than I had expected, for a group of space pirates. Your wounds will heal with minimal scarring –”

“Well jeez. And here I was hoping I could add to my collection.”

She gave me a stern look. “Your body needs rest, Mr Stark. I understand some of the others have organised a party with the Reavers. You will not be joining them.”

“Anyone who gets covered in my blood gets to call me Tony,” I said. “And I, uh, I have to go find Petey before I can get some shut-eye…”

“Peter has been assigned quarters of his own and is hopefully _resting_ now. Which is exactly what you will be doing.”

Sure. OK. All I had to do was just figure out how to stop my life unspooling behind my eyes.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony talks to Peter, trying to apologise for letting him get caught up in the fight against Thanos.  
> Tony and Stephen have an ugly confrontation.

I collapsed onto my bunk and tried to sleep, but the constant progression of nightmarish memories kept me awake. I think I passed out, my body demanding a recharge, but when I woke I felt anything other than recharged.

I’d never get used to the chemshowers on this ship, but I had to wash off the old blood and sweat. Putting on fresh clothes – even faded jeans and a T-shirt – felt good. The latest iteration of the ARC reactor was nothing more than a housing and power device for the nanites that made up my suit; it was thin, light-weight, and detachable. When I dressed, all I needed to do was slap it back on over my clothes, and it would wirelessly connect to my nervous system to give me complete control of the suit.

With my clothes on, I looked more like the old Tony Stark. No one could see the terrible scarring on my torso, the skin-grafts covering the site of the old reactor socket. I could pretend that I was a better person, a man who functioned, a man who had a life back on Earth that actually meant something to him. I could pretend a lot of things.

I found Peter in the mess hall, sitting by himself, looking like a kid who’d been allowed to stay up way past his bed time. The party was still going on, drunken Reavers dancing on the tables, listening to shitty space pop music. Rocket was being passed from shoulder to shoulder, yelling about needing some guy’s arm. Quill had a table by himself and was staring miserably at a bottle; Natasha and Thor had a table of their own; Shuri and Doctor Strange were talking, too far away to hear, especially over the noise. I didn’t see anyone else from our Thanos-killing group. They were either hungover or sleeping. Some people – like Rhodey and the Falcon – had elected to stay behind on Earth in an effort to keep the peace.

The Cap should have been here. Instead we’d had to leave his body back on Titan.

Deliberately shying away from that box of memories, I beckoned Peter to a quieter corner.

“Mr Stark!” His face brightened. I felt like a shit. Scratch that – I _was_ a shit.

“Look, kid, it’s probably time you started calling me Tony,” I said. “Princess Peach over there is only a little older than you,” I nodded at Shuri, “and I said she could. You and I, we know each other better.”

“Tony.” He smiled. How the fuck could he still smile at me when I’d let him down? He saw me as some kind of father figure. Trouble was, I was the deadbeat dad model, not the perfect pa. 

“We’re finally going home.” It seemed important to me that I stress that point. “It’s gonna take a little while, this stupid Reaver ship isn’t the greatest technology in the Universe, but –”

“I don’t understand.” Peter’s baffled voice cut me off. “When we went after Doctor Strange in that doughnut thing, we reached Titan in like a couple hours –”

“Q-ship, kid. They’re called Q-ships. And that’s because Thanos had the absolute best of everything.” For a second – a horrible second – I compared the man I’d once been to the Mad Titan; we’d had money, power, wealth, driving ambition. I’d never once desired to wipe out half of all living creatures, but the weapons my company had manufactured had done a pretty good job in reducing the number of lives on Earth.

I was drowning in guilt. It just hadn’t killed me yet.

“Uh huh. OK.” Peter didn’t seem to have noticed that I was tearing myself apart inside, and I was glad for that. “So we’re going home. Did Aunt May, did she, uh…”

“She didn’t get snapped.” God, I hated that word. “When I left Earth she was very much alive and well.” And volcanically furious with me. “Look, Petey…” There was no easy way to say this, so I just had to man up and get the words out. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. If I’d done my job, if I’d kept a better eye on you, I’d never have let you join the fight in the first place.”

His face hardened, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of the man – of the hero – he’d become one day soon. 

“Didn’t we already go over that?” he said. “You yelled at me, I told you I couldn’t defend my neighbourhood if there wasn’t a neighbourhood to defend, you yelled at me some more and gave me the Iron Spider suit?”

“I’m trying to say it’s my fault that you got…” I snapped my fingers, then instantly wished that I hadn’t. It made me feel dirty, poured just a little bit more guilt into my lungs. “And I’m trying to apologise for that.”

“It’s not your fault.” Peter leaned forward, an earnest look on his young face. “I don’t care what people have told you, or try to tell you, but it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for any of this.” He gestured around us.

“Yeah. Try telling that to May.”

“I’ll make her understand.” That hard look crossed his face again. “We have to take responsibility for our actions and I take responsibility for mine. I’d do it again, Tony.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. The kid was idealistic – there was no doubt about that – impetuous, prone to rushing in without thinking, that was for sure, but he had the makings of an incredible guy. One day – probably one day soon – he’d be the best of us all. 

“I’ll remind you of that when May starts screaming at you,” I croaked. “Pretty sure you’re grounded for, like, ever.”

He grinned. The hardness vanished, making him look like an over-eager twelve-year-old again. 

 

We were a couple days out from Titan and the fucking party was still going on. Well – mostly it was the Reavers, though I was pretty sure Rocket was matching them drink for drink. Quill had joined them, though he was drinking in the ‘I’m trying to forget everything’ kind of way that I was familiar with. We’d won, there was no doubt of that, but we’d lost people along the way. It didn’t feel like a victory.

I did my best to stay out of their way while still keeping an eye on Peter, which was a lot harder than it sounded. The kid was interested in _everything._ He wanted to go everywhere on the ship and it was driving me crazy. Of us all, he was the most upbeat, the most cheerful. Maybe even the most normal. That gave me hope, but at the same time it made me feel old; he understood that we’d lost people, knew the superficial facts of what had happened between rounds one and two of our fight with Thanos, but he’d _been_ one of the lost. He hadn’t felt what we’d felt during that time, hadn’t shared our experiences.

I tried a couple times to get him to open up about what he remembered during the snap. Other than the babble he’d come out with in the immediate aftermath, he’d kept it buttoned down tight. That worried me. All I could do was hope that, in time, he’d feel that he could talk about it. 

 

Shuri found us one morning as I was trying to dissuade Peter from getting into the ducts. 

“You are not resting,” she snapped.

“The moment I take my eyes off Christopher Columbus here, he’s gonna go explore some new lands in the engineering section,” I growled, running a frustrated hand through my hair. “You know what it’s like when bugs get into your hardware –”

“Dude!” Peter sounded outraged. “Arachnid! Not a bug!”

“Po-tay-toe, po-tar-toe.” 

“Peter, would you like to spend some time with me?” Shuri asked. “I can give you a guided tour of the ship.”

“Won’t Rocket get kinda pissed?” I asked, genuinely worried.

“Rocket is currently trying to work out how to convert rocket fuel into alcohol.” She shuddered. “And I am not so sure that he will not succeed.”

“Please, Mr Stark – I mean Tony? Can I?”

I looked down into his open, trusting, exited eyes. I’d let him go off into battle, and look where that had got him. He was still so fucking young.

Come to think of it, Shuri was pretty damned young, too, like eighteen or something. But they’d both stepped up to the mark. They understood their responsibilities and they welcomed them.

“Go on,” I said eventually. “You kids look out for each other, you hear me?” 

I stiffened as Shuri, unexpectedly, gave me a hug.

“Look out for yourself, Tony.”

 

I was sitting in a dim corner of one of the rec rooms, nursing something that tasted a little like coffee but wasn’t, when a rustle of cloth announced someone sitting opposite. I looked up.

“Get lost,” I grunted, looking back down at my not-coffee.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Doctor Strange said. This was the first time I’d seen him out of ‘work’ clothes – the Cloak of Levitation was gone, off doing whatever it was that mystic garments did when they weren’t needed, and he’d ditched the tunic. In black jeans, a dark grey T-shirt and black cardigan, he still looked out of place… but it was a ‘normal’ out of place. A college professor rather than the Sorcerer Supreme. 

“Trying to avoid everybody,” I growled, “but hey, what do you know? The ship’s not big enough. Now get lost already.” 

“You blame me for what happened.” His voice was low, soft. “And you have every right to be angry –”

I looked up again, and whatever he saw in my face made him flinch. 

“Let me tell you what I feel,” I said. My mouth was running away with me, and I didn’t care, because what I was about to say had been brewing for months, eating me up from the inside, making me question every aspect of my self-worth. Or what little was left of my self-worth. “You swore to me that you’d protect the Time Stone. You said that if it came down to a choice between my life, or Peter’s, you’d chose the Stone.”

“I had my reasons –”

“I know you had your fucking reasons,” I snarled. “You put a curse or a loop on the Stone, and I still don’t really understand that shit we did in the Quantum Realm, but it gave us the opportunity to go against Thanos again. I know that. I _know_ that. But you should have let me die on Titan.”

“I appreciate that the aftermath was hard for you –”

I slapped my ARC reactor. Nanites streamed out to cover my hand as I grabbed his throat. It felt so good to dig my metal-covered fingers into his flesh. He scrabbled at my hand, his face quickly turning red.

“Shut. Your fucking. Mouth,” I hissed. It occurred to me that he could free himself with a flick of his fingers, but he didn’t. “So what if you saved my life? I’ve got nothing left. Nothing! You should have let me die!”

“Let him go, Man of Iron.”

Thor’s deep rumble penetrated the fog of rage boiling through my mind. I unclenched my hand.

“Whatever,” I said, slapping my ARC reactor again. The nanites melted back into the storage plate. “Hating this douchebag takes up too much energy, and I haven’t got enough of that left.”

Strange rubbed his throat, but he wasn’t getting up. He wasn’t leaving. He looked… if he was a different man, I’d have said he looked shamed. Except that the self-styled Master of the Mystic Arts didn’t understand shame. 

And to make it worse, Thor dropped into a seat at the end of the table.

“This will not do,” he said, fixing us both with a stern glare. “With the death of Steve Rogers, you two are the best defence Earth has. You must overcome this impasse.” 

Hearing Steve’s name hurt. It was always going to hurt. He’d come with us to Titan, but when Thanos was through with him, there hadn’t even been enough to bring home.

“Jerry Springer here has really missed his calling,” I croaked. I would rather be anywhere – absolutely anywhere, even dying on Titan – than have this conversation.

“Stark,” Thor said, “explain to Strange what happened after the snap.”

“This isn’t necessary,” Strange interjected, “I _know_ what happened –”

“You know words, peddler of the arcane.” There was a faintly contemptuous note to his voice. “You’ve seen things, but you do not understand them. You do not _feel_ them.” He thumped his chest. “Stark has lived the reality of things you have only seen behind your eyes. You owe him this, at least.”

Strange nodded, swallowing convulsively. I took that as a go.

“Everything changed after the snap,” I said. “Everything. Straight away. It wasn’t just losing half the world’s population, at least not in those first days. It was about clearing up crashes. Trains, planes and automobiles – what do you think happens when a driver or pilot suddenly vanishes?”

Strange’s eyes flickered. I was locked on his face, tracking his reactions. I wanted to see every moment of pain he felt – if he even felt pain.

“Accidents,” he murmured.

“Oh, they weren’t accidents. Thanos didn’t just ‘accidentally’ snap his fingers. But the thing is, when a car crashes, it takes out other cars. It takes out pedestrians. When a train loses control it can go off the tracks, and good luck figuring out where _those_ bad boys are gonna land. And airplanes…” I shook my head. “When a plane falls out of the sky it’s like a bomb going off, do you understand that? Buildings, cars, people, farms, everything. It was carnage. No, it was worse than that. It was an _apocalypse._ ”

Strange’s eyes flickered again. “I’ve seen the aftermath.” His lips were a thin line.

“Did you see people’s faces when they finally figured out what was going on? That the crashes weren’t the end of their nightmares, but only the beginning?” He didn’t answer. “People lost hope, Strange. Everybody – and I do mean everybody – lost someone they loved. Whole families were wiped out. Human beings are resilient as hell, but if you take away our hope, you take away our humanity.”

Finally he bowed his head. He’d always seemed so fucking calm, but this, at least, was starting to get through to him. Thor – who’d witnessed this himself first-hand, who’d experienced that loss of hope himself – sat and listened, silent and watchful.

“It took me a couple weeks to get back to Earth,” I continued. “When all you’ve got for company is a psychotic Kree cyber-woman, you start staying inside your own head way more than is healthy. We took Quill’s ship but we didn’t have the fuel or food to get far.” I cleared my throat, knowing I was on the edge of tears, angrily determined not to give in. “Long story short, I spent a lot of time thinking about my fiancé. Strawberry-blonde, yay high, you met her briefly when you gate-crashed our early-morning jog.”

“Miss Potts.” Strange’s voice was rough. He continued to look at the table.

“We’d recently got engaged. I love her enough to make her my wife.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat again. Even though things had gone so badly wrong between the two of us, part of me would always love her. “I wanted to start a family with her.”

Now it was my turn to look at the table as I struggled to keep my shit together. I put my forearms on the surface, hands gripping each other, squeezing so hard the tendons were standing out. I couldn’t speak. 

“Earth changed while Stark drifted through space,” Thor said, taking up the story when I couldn’t. “Loss turned to rage. What was the point in having heroes who could save the day, people said, when they _couldn’t_ save the day?”

“But we did,” Strange said. He sounded bewildered. “We _did_ save the day.”

I’d wanted to see his face throughout this whole horrible conversation, but right now I was glad that I couldn’t. I didn’t want to know whether he looked happy, or sad, or guilty, because there was a high chance I was going to smash that look right off his face. 

“That’s certainly one point of view.” Thor sounded grim. It still amazed me that after fifteen hundred years of swilling ale and pounding his chest, he’d learned wisdom – but that wisdom had been hard-won, at the expense of his planet and his people. “We restored the lives of those who had been lost during the snap. But no amount of sorcery or science can bring back the lives that were lost after.”

Strange cleared his throat. “I… I had not considered that aspect.”

“Course you hadn’t,” I rasped. “You’re so busy looking at the bigger picture, you forgot about all the little ones.”

“You consider yourself part of the smaller picture?” He sounded surprised.

His arrogance was staggering. He’d kept himself apart from the real world for too long.

“Sure. Earth is my home. I’m just a tiny little puzzle piece that makes up the jigsaw.” I dragged my face up, meeting his startled eyes. “Only I’m not, not anymore.” I slapped the table. “Tell him, Thor.” I jumped to my feet, angry energy making me pace up and down the room.

“You’re aware that your Earth peace organisation, the United Nations, created the Sokovia Accords,” the Asgardian explained. “After the Decimation, a new treaty was passed. It was written in haste, voted through in fear, and ratified in blood.”

“I’ve seen this,” Strange whispered. “You don’t need to –”

“Shut up and listen,” I growled.

“Enhanced humans were considered enemies of humanity.” His voice was low and solemn. “As such they were to be hunted and brought to justice. Princess Shuri offered sanctuary to as many as she could, but she was rebuilding Wakanda and had her own struggles.”

“This is my favourite part,” I said, turning to glare at the back of Strange’s head. “Pepper, she uh, she… she thought I was dead, so…” God, this was so hard, everything was still so fucking raw. “I was legally declared dead. I lost my company. The Government seized most of my assets. She just couldn’t get her head around the fact that I’d failed. I’d left her behind, left her in the middle of the fucking street, left her to pick up the pieces.” I slapped the wall again, needing to vent a little of my frustration or I’d explode.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself out, and turned around. Strange had also turned in his seat. His skin was pale, the black of his beard and hair a sharp contrast.

“She was my shining beacon all through that hellish trip,” I said. “The one thing I held on to. So when I got home, and found out that it wasn’t my home anymore… and that not only had she stopped loving me, but she actively hated me and what I represented…” My voice cracked again, but I had to finish this. “I barely got out of New York with my life. I fled to Wakanda and I stayed there until Rocket was able to get a Reaver ship to come pick us up. So now you understand why you should have let me die on Titan.”

Strange slumped. It was odd to see him this way; throughout our brief association he’d always been this upright, uptight, arrogant guy, always so sure that he knew all the answers, that he had the best plans. 

I saw a lot of myself in him. I didn’t like it. 

“Thor’s right,” he said, briefly covering his face with his hands. In that moment the scars on his fingers seemed very dark against his skin. “You can see something, and yet not understand it.”

I stomped back to the table, leaning over it, putting my hands on the surface. I got right up in his face.

“So you can _understand,_ ” I growled, “that when I tell you to get lost, I really, _really_ mean it.”

He drew himself up, his defeat or moment of realisation or whatever the fuck it was over. Harsh lines had etched themselves across his forehead. His grey eyes snapped with repressed determination.

“I understand.” There was no give to his voice, just a hard wall of resolve. “I also understand that, given the choice, I would do it all again. The future of the Universe hinged on the survival of one person, Stark, and that person was you.”

I reeled away from the table. Even Thor looked perturbed. “What the hell?”

“I told you I watched over fourteen million possible futures, and that only one resulted in us defeating Thanos. That one single future was only possible if _you_ survived.”

“Me? But I’m not… I’m not…” 

“Were you going to say ‘important’? Were you going to say ‘just a piece of the puzzle’?” He tilted his head to the side. “You’re the reason we were able to defeat Thanos. When you reached Earth, what remained of the Avengers were hiding in Wakanda, yes?”

“Well, yeah, I guess –”

“And in that time, none of them had made any progress. No plans. No schemes. Just day after day of sitting in bars and mourning the past.”

“What were they supposed to do?” I yelled, thumping the table. 

“Nothing. As you said, they had lost hope. They had lost their humanity. But your return… you gave them back their hope. They thought you were dead.”

I slumped down onto the bench, breathing hard, eyes losing focus as I thought back to that time. I’d spent so long avoiding those memories that it was hard to dredge them up now.

“Think about it.” Strange’s tone was persuasive. “With new hope, they had a new purpose. It was you who persuaded Rocket to reach out to his old Reaver colleagues to procure this ship. It was you who rescued Ant-Man from the Quantum Realm and persuaded him to get involved with the heist of a lifetime, to steal the Infinity Stones. Those are your achievements, and you should be proud of them.”

Strange stood up. Thor, looking thoughtful, made no move to stop him.

“I leave you with this last thought to consider,” the sorcerer said. “You endured terrible pain, and for that, you have my deepest, sincerest apologies, for whatever value they have for you.” I jumped up from the bench, fresh anger making me want to punch his lights out, only Thor’s big hand on my arm hauling me back. “But if our roles were reversed, and you had the ability to save billions upon billions of lives at the expense of everything that I held dear – at the expense of another man’s dreams and ambitions – would you do it?”

He turned and left the room, leaving me standing, impotent, shaking with rage and shame, fighting the burning need to just sit down and bury my face in my hands. To give in to my own self-pity.

“Stark?” Thor’s gentle question made my eyes snap to him.

“God damn him,” I said in a low, defeated voice. “Damn him back to whatever mystic temple he crawled out of. The asshole’s right.”

“You would do as he did?”

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” I punched the wall, heedless of the pain, heedless of the fact that I was pretty sure I’d broken at least one knuckle. “Yes! I would!” I whirled around to face him, swiping angrily at the moisture burning my eyes. “Now tell me that party’s still going on, cause I need to go find myself a drink.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stephen help a hung-over Tony; Stephen treats his injuries and formally introduces him to the Cloak of Levitation.

“Tony…”

“Huh?” I looked up, blinking. Was that Peter? Why did my hand hurt? Oh yeah, because I’d punched a wall. “Why’s there two of you?”

“There’s only one of me, though I guess it would be really cool if there were two, I mean one of me could go to school and the other could be like a full-time crime-fighter –”

“Stop… stop…” I held up a hand, noticed how swollen it was, and put it down. The room lurched. “I’m gonna puke…” I turned away, not wanting the kid to see his shitty substitute father barf like a bar-fly. 

Vomit spewed out of my mouth, splattering across the floor. I felt helpless, defenceless, useless. My ribs hurt. My hand hurt like fuck. My throat was sore and my head was pounding. Did Asgardians puke like stupid humans? What about genetically engineered racoons? Did they eat their own barf, maybe? Like… intergalactic trash pandas?

“Um, Tony…”

“I’ll take care of this, Mr Parker,” a brisk voice interrupted.

“Oh, uh… call me Peter. Thanks, Doctor Strange.”

“Call me Stephen.”

I wiped a hand – not the swollen one – across the back of my mouth and looked up. There he was, large as life and twice as blurry, the guy I wanted to hate but couldn’t. So I hated myself instead. 

He’d ditched the college professor cardigan for a sweater. He so wasn’t a sweater guy. I didn’t even know where the hell he’d got a sweater – like the other snap victims we’d collected on Titan, he should only have the clothes he’d worn that day, or whatever they’d been able to scrounge off the crew. 

“Go ‘way,” I grunted. Then I remembered – the douche could open dimensional gates. Could he reach all the way across galaxies just to get a clean pair of pants? And if that was the case, why was he slumming it in cattle class when he could just take a couple steps and be back in his study? I didn’t even doubt that he had a study. Guys like him always did.

“Not until we get you sobered up.” Strange’s voice was solemn. “The swill these Reavers are serving isn’t fit to use as engine oil, so God only knows what it’s doing to your insides.”

“Didn’t know you cared.” I couldn’t seem to straighten up from my bent over position, forearms braced on my knees. I kept my gritty eyes closed, frightened I was going to heave again.

“I sacrificed myself on Titan to ensure you stayed alive long enough to avenge the Universe,” he replied, his voice dry. “Pretty sure that’s a good indicator that I care, wouldn’t you say?”

He had me there. My brain was too fuzzy to come up with a witty reply, so I said nothing.

I forced my eyes open, taking slow, deep breaths as I eased myself into an upright position. Strange made a few mystic passes with his hands and the puke disappeared.

That was a neat trick. How could all that power come from hands that were so damaged? I’d never thought about the reality of what he could actually do – when you got right down to it, I was pretty sure it was all just about manipulating energy – but it seemed like magic to me. 

I stared at his hands. It was easy to believe that he’d once been a brain surgeon; despite the silvery scars, his fingers were still long and narrow, unbent by all the surgery he’d had to endure. 

Man. Maybe we should start comparing surgery scars.

“Come on,” he said, easing an arm around my shoulders.

I shoved him away, though the movement made my head throb so violently I was sure I was going to throw up again.

“I can walk,” I growled, then proceeded to take two stumbling steps before my knees gave out. “Ow,” I complained from the floor, getting a real close-up view of the worn rivets used to bolt the panels together. “Getting old. Used to be able to hold my liquor.” Maybe it really _was_ jet fuel.

“None of us are getting any younger.” He got an arm around me again, hauling me back to my feet. “Or thinner. You could stand to lose a few pounds, Stark.”

“That’s pure muscle, dude.” I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he wasn’t letting go, and every time I moved my brain twitched with pain. “Something you wouldn’t know about. Beanpole.”

“Have you stopped feeling sorry for yourself?” he asked, both eyebrows raised.

“God knows I can’t be allowed to enjoy my own pity-party,” I mumbled. 

“Of course not.”

He began leading me out of the rec room. I shuffled along beside him.

“What did you do to your knuckles?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You know, your knuckles, the place where your fingers join your hand…”

“How ‘bout the knuckle sandwich you’re gonna get if you don’t shut up?”

“If you just gave me a straight answer, I wouldn’t have to resort to sarcasm.”

“Isn’t that your default setting? Pull a string, you’ve got like ten pre-recorded phrases?”

He startled me with a laugh. The sound rolled around the corridor.

“Only ten? I’m insulted. Now who did you punch to get your knuckles in that state?”

“Does a wall count as a ‘who’?” I asked, embarrassed. And why the hell had I just admitted that? He must already think I was a loser, despite the whole ‘you and you alone had to survive to give us a future’ speech.

“Depends if it was looking at you shifty or not.”

“Oh, totally shifty.” I grabbed on to the conversational life-line, grateful – and surprised yet again.

“Want me to take a look at it?”

“Again with the ‘huh’?”

“I spent time in the ER room.” He rolled his eyes.

“Being the one wheeled in doesn’t count.” He flinched. “Dude,” I said, “sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.”

“Forget it.”

“That’s why you don’t talk to drunk guys,” I said, morose. “You just let us sleep it off in dark corners.” 

_Had_ I slept last night? There were gaps in my memory. Maybe I’d just passed out. Either way, there’d been no nightmares. Almost made it worth waking up feeling like shit.

“What, so you can pass out in a pile of your own vomit?”

“Well, yeah, that was kinda the plan.”

“New plan,” he said. “You let me take a look at your hand, I bundle you into one of those God-awful chemshowers, and _then_ you sleep it off.”

I dug my heels in, making him stop.

“Why the hell are you being so nice to me?” I demanded. “You coulda just left me in the rec room.”

“I’m not sure you’d like my answer.”

“I haven’t liked any of your answers so far. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to hear them.”

“Maybe when you’re sober. Now come on, before you catch some weird space infection and I have to amputate your hand at the neck.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. 

 

The corridors were warm and dimly lit. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, leaning on Strange and trying to pretend that I didn’t need to. 

Something flickered in the dim light. My body reacted before I did, pushing me away from the perceived threat, pushing me closer into the circle of Strange’s supporting arm. He must have had his feet braced – he didn’t move.

“Easy,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s just the Cloak.”

“Got a license for that thing?” I said, breathing hard, trying to calm my jumping nerves. 

“Sorcerer Supreme,” he drawled. “Pretty sure that’s a license.” 

“Smartass.” 

“Hmm, pots, kettles…”

The Cloak hovered in front of us. I hadn’t seen too much of it in action – there’d just been too much going on to keep track of every combatant – but from the little I’d managed to glean, it seemed like it could hold its own in a fight.

“What does it want?” I asked, when Strange didn’t seem in any hurry to start walking again. 

“Pretty sure it just wants to say hello.” He made a thoughtful noise. “I _think_ it likes you.”

“God only knows why. Though it picked you, so…”

“Smartass,” he threw back. 

I smirked, then looked at the Cloak. The Cloak looked – well, I guess the Cloak looked back at me. 

“How does it _see?_ ”

“Stark.” Strange sighed. “The answer to every single question you might ask about the Cloak is going to be ‘magic’, so why don’t you just shake hands so we can get you back to your room?”

More than a little dazed – wondering if this was just a hallucination brought on by alcohol poisoning – I held out the hand that wasn’t hurt. The Cloak lifted a corner of its hem and wrapped it around my fingers. The scarlet fabric was a lot thicker than I’d expected; the blue and purple check lining was soft, almost flannel.

“Pleased to meet ya,” I said, and we shook.

The Cloak released my hand, then furled itself in a tight spiral, as if someone was wringing out a giant dishcloth. It spun around a couple times before unfurling and settling over our shoulders. Warmth enveloped me like a hug.

“OK,” I said slowly. “Seen some pretty surreal things in my time, most of ‘em since _you_ came into my life,” and I gave Strange a sour look, “but _that’s_ going in my top ten list.”

“It _really_ likes you.” The sorcerer was bemused. “Count yourself lucky. It’s not really the friendly type.”

“Not complaining. Dude’s nice and soft. Warm, too.”

 

Strange helped me back to my room, then eased me down onto the bunk. The Cloak settled over me like a blanket; I froze for a second, reacting to the unfamiliar movement, before forcing myself to relax. It would be so easy to sleep… except that I knew it wouldn’t last. My nightmares were glorious, Technicolour, IMAX, surround-sound horror shows. The Cloak was magic, but I was pretty sure it couldn’t give me a good night’s sleep.

It smelled good, though. 

Strange pulled my legs off the bunk so that he could sit beside me. The Cloak moved with me, draping itself over my knees.

“Hand.”

“This some new version of ‘Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes’?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “Have to admit, not really digging it so far.”

“Give me your hand, Stark.” His tone brooked no argument, but I wanted to argue anyway. Instead, I held out my hand like a little kid.

“Do I get a lollipop if I behave?”

He smirked. “You know, once you stop being such an asshole, you’re a pretty fun guy.”

My humour vanished. “I’m hilarious,” I said, pulling my hand back. “Look, I can take care of this myself. Thanks for getting me back, you’re a saint, whatever, but I’ve got this.”

He arched a single eyebrow. “Are you going to be difficult about this?”

“I’m difficult about everything. You should know that by now.”

He acknowledged my point with a small nod. “The sooner you behave, the sooner I can leave.”

“Just as long as I get my lollipop.”

His smirk made me smile, despite my irritation. He opened a small gate, reached inside, and withdrew a leather satchel.

“More mystic mumbo jumbo?” I asked, sceptical despite everything I’d seen him do.

“If you think that a splint’s mumbo jumbo, then sure.”

“What?”

“Am I going to have to keep repeating myself?” He opened the satchel and pulled out a roll of bandages, a box of Band-Aids, a bottle of some clear liquid and a bag of cotton balls. “Precisely how much did you have to drink?”

“Enough to know that you’re not gonna let me take any painkillers.” 

“Got that right. Now give me your hand.”

A corner of the Cloak flicked out, wrapping around my wrist and gently raising my injured hand. Stephen dabbed some of the liquid on a cotton ball and cleaned the cuts across my knuckles; his touch was gentle, his fingers cool, the skin rough against my swollen flesh. 

Judging by the way the liquid made the cuts sting like the fiery pits of hell, it was alcohol. I gritted my teeth and tried to remember that I was a manly man, and we didn’t start whining just because something hurt. But fuck _me,_ it hurt. 

“I wish you’d got this looked at last night,” he said. “Shuri or I could have got an icepack on it, stopped all this swelling.”

“What can I say? I’m a terrible patient.”

He looked up briefly. “I can believe that.”

“The thing with the gate,” I said, waving my other hand at where he’d opened the last one, “if you can do that, why don’t you just go home?”

He stiffened for a second, then relaxed. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“No.” Although if he’d asked me that yesterday, I would have given a very different answer. I must have been more hungover than I’d thought. “I just don’t get it. Why would you want to be stuck with us in a floating tin can for weeks?”

“Hold your fingers out as straight as they will go.”

I obeyed without thinking, listening to the low, mellow tone of his voice. My pinkie and ring finger moved OK, but my first and index only extended a little way before pain made me hiss.

“Didn’t answer my question, Doc.”

“I believe that these two knuckles are broken.” One fingertip hovered over the most swollen area of my hand. He braced two light, thin plastic splints on the underside of my fingers, then began winding a length of bandage around the digits.

“Still didn’t answer the question.”

“It’s a simple matter of mass.” He’d delayed for long enough that I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Anything over a certain mass, and a certain distance, well… let’s just say that it can get ugly.”

“Are you trying to baffle me with science, Doctor Strange?”

“That’s exactly right,” he deadpanned. “The cuts on your knuckles should heal soon, providing you’re not of those awful people who pick at their scabs, and your knuckles will probably be OK by the time we get back to Earth.”

“Thank you.” I felt like shit, but I meant it. The way I’d yelled at him… I wouldn’t blame him if he felt like breaking a couple more of my knuckles. “Look, about yesterday…” I sighed. “I’m sorry, man.”

It hurt to apologise. I still felt that I was justified in what I’d said, every single thing. But just as I hoped I’d helped him see another side to the story, he’d shown me another side, too. 

“Are you apologising for shouting at me, or for grabbing me by the throat?” He began packing things back into the satchel. “Have to say, not really my kink.”

I tried to smile. “Ah, little of both.”

“I’ll take that,” he said with a little shrug. “Drink plenty of water. Get some sleep. Can I trust you to do those things?”

“I didn’t get my lollipop,” I said. “I’m not doing jack.”

He rolled his eyes, opened a small portal and reached inside. It came back holding a lollipop, and I felt my eyes light up.

“Dude! My God, I’m not even gonna ask where that came from. Gimme.”

He handed it over. “Now be a good little Stark and get some liquid inside you that isn’t booze, OK?”

“You gave me candy,” I said, giving it a quick, mischievous lick that made him grin. “You get to call me Tony.”

He grimaced. “Then, as your confectionary pusher, I guess you get to call me Stephen.”

 

He left me with a jug of water and a battered metal cup, the Cloak settled comfortably over his shoulders. I missed the Cloak’s warmth, that comforting weight across my legs. I hadn’t expected that.

I drank the water in sips, waiting to see if each mouthful would stay down before I took another one. I lay back on the bunk, trying to ignore the fresh pain in my knuckles, the pain in my head, and most importantly the pain in my heart.

I’d had a conversation with Strange – Stephen, I guess – that hadn’t actually devolved into screaming and accusations. I hadn’t thought that would be possible. I’d left most of my anger back in that rec room, and all that remained was sorrow. 

I wasn’t in any hurry to get back to Earth. I needed to reunite Petey with his aunt, but after that? I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do. It all depended on what kind of reception we got. Were we heroes again? Or were we the bad guys? Would Pepper…?

I grabbed a little shut-eye. It was cut predictably short by another nightmare of Thanos driving my own nanite blade into my abdomen. Still feeling as if something had died in my mouth and then had babies in my chest, I grabbed some food from the mess hall and went in search of more booze. With enough alcohol I could hold the nightmares at bay. I could stop the pain.

At least for a little while.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, still either drunk as a skunk or hungover as hell, is lectured about responsbilities by Shuri, and finds an unexpected ally in an equally drunk and mourning Quill.
> 
> Later, during an impromptu party, Tony is caught in a crush and suffers a panic attack. Stephen gets him back to his cabin, and the two begin to open up to each other. Tony realises that they have more in common than he'd ever realised.

“Tony.”

I came slowly awake. It took me a moment to figure out where I was; my back ached from where I’d slumped over the table. My knuckles throbbed and jagged pain lanced through my head. The inside of my mouth… well, the less said about that the better. My stomach roiled, but I’d had practise keeping the contents where they were supposed to be.

I had, however, drooled on the table.

I made some unintelligible noise, dragging my aching body into an upright position, wiping the back of my arm over my mouth. My clothes smelled kind of fusty. 

“’m awake,” I mumbled, blearily trying to focus. I was used to seeing two and sometimes three versions of whoever tried to wake me up. Dark skin, dark hair, couldn’t see the disapproving glower yet but I was pretty sure it was there. Shuri, then.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” Her voice was soft, not at all what I was expecting. Hectoring, I could live with. Pity – comfort – understanding – I didn’t want that. 

“Free booze,” I said. I squinted again and Shuri finally came into view. She didn’t look angry. I groaned, letting my head drop onto the pillow of my arms.

“I do not believe that.” She touched my elbow, fingers gently curving over the joint. I shook her off, dragging myself upright yet again. “We’re worried about you.”

“‘We’?”

“Stephen. Peter.”

I looked up. “Oh, it’s Stephen now, is it?” I didn’t understand why her using his first name made me angry, but it did. 

“You get drunk every day, and we are the only ones on board this ship who care about you enough to get you back to your bunk.” The first hint of censure crept into her voice, and I relaxed. I was used to this. I expected this. “Do I need to go into detail about the damage you’re doing to yourself?”

“I’m already pretty damaged.”

“If you will not spare a thought for yourself, then spare one for Peter. Have you noticed how he idolises you?”

“You had to go and use that word,” I croaked.

“I’ve only known him for the length of this voyage,” and more censure filled her voice, “but it is obvious that he looks to you for guidance. You are his model, his –”

“God, don’t say substitute dad,” I groaned. “I had a shitty father who loved his work more than his family, and I’m pretty sure I’m the same.”

“You are _not_ the same.” Her voice lashed across me. “You care more deeply than you want to admit, and that is why you try to numb yourself to everything through drink.”

“Everyone’s a chat show host,” I grumbled. 

“It’s not going to work, Tony. I need – _we_ need – you to see that. The only way to begin the healing process is to allow yourself to feel.”

“You’re assuming I want to be healed.”

She drew back with a sharp intake of breath. Moisture glinted in her eyes. Great – I’d made a Wakandan princess cry. 

“Peter will have more than his share of hardship in the future.” She drew herself up straight. The warmth I’d heard in her voice was gone. “Is this the way you wish to teach him to deal with those hardships?”

“I never wanted to teach him anything in the first place!”

“Then why did you start interfering in her life?”

“Because he was gonna get himself killed running around like that –”

“Precisely.” Her eyes bored into mine. “You cared enough for his safety to intervene. You have responsibilities, Tony Stark.”

“Ah, let him drown his sorrows,” a fresh voice growled.

“Quill,” I said, nodding as he entered the mess hall. Still on his way to getting drunk, by the way he staggered. We were in different parts of a cycle – he was tanking up, I was dealing with the after-effects. 

“You are not helping, Mr Quill.” Shuri’s tone was frosty. Interesting – the chatty teen was on first name terms with pretty much everyone here, from what I’d been able to overhear – but not with this dude.

“Oh, was I supposed to be helping?” He scowled at her. “Then by all means, Mr Stark, you’d gosh-darned better clean your act up before you get back to Earth. Because you wouldn’t want the people you loved seeing that you’ve turned into a drunken mess. Oh, wait – I forgot, they don’t love you anymore, do they? You’re not the golden boy.”

“Quill!” Shuri’s growl would have been intimidating if I was sober. He seemed to be of the same opinion. He cranked his finger up in a birdie.

“This guy,” I slurred, waving a hand in his general direction. “I like this guy. I mean not personally – you’re a dick – but you’re a dick who’s not afraid to call a spade a spade, especially if that spade intends to spend the rest of the voyage drunk out of his skull.”

“Well, good.” He seemed taken aback. “I mean not about the dick part, I think you’re one too, but it’s good that we can see eye to eye on something.”

“Are you two listening to yourselves?” Shuri demanded. 

“Hell, no,” I said. “Then I’d actually have to start thinking about what I was saying.”

“You two.” Her face twisted with disgust. “I may still be a teenager, but you are both little more than children. I understand that you have suffered great personal tragedy, but so have many of us. Or are you forgetting the people we have lost?”

Quill and I shared a look. “Lady,” he said, “that’s _why_ we drink.”

She made a frustrated noise. “Captain America died on Titan!” she shouted. “Yet Natasha does not get drunk every day! The God of Thunder lost his whole _planet,_ his entire _people,_ and what does he do? Vow to search the Universe to find other Asgardians!” She shook her head, eyes sparking with fury. “You are both a disgrace to your abilities, to your responsibilities. Maybe Thanos should have taken you both instead!”

She stormed out of the room, her anger so palpable I was choking on it.

“I wish Thanos _had_ killed me,” I said in a low, breaking voice. “God, what a fucking mess.”

Quill thumped down across the table from me. “You and me both, man. You and me both.”

The clatter of claws on metal made us both look up. Rocket sauntered into the mess hall. It was hard to make out from his furry little face how he was feeling, but to me it seemed as if some of the usual vitriol was gone from his eyes. Stephen strolled in behind him, the Cloak over his shoulders. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed as if the hem kind of lifted toward me as the sorcerer entered the room.

“Come on, buddy, time to get you some coffee,” Rocket said, hopping up onto the table. He put a clawed hand on Quill’s shoulder. The man slumped. 

“I hate coffee,” he grumbled.

I glanced at Stephen. “You here to read me the riot act?”

“No. I’m here to make sure you get something to eat and drink.” His eyes flicked between me and Quill. “Did something happen?”

“We just got schooled by an eighteen-year old,” Quill muttered. “Worse thing is, she was right.”

She _was_ right. Totally. That didn’t necessarily mean that I was going to stop trying to keep myself numb.

I didn’t want to heal. I was tired of hurting. 

 

“Twenty credits says the furry dude’s gonna win.” 

I spoke slowly in an effort not to slur my words, but I was pretty sure Stephen knew that I was riding the edge of drunkenness. 

He dragged a hand down his face. “I would just like to state, for the record, that this is a terrible idea. I want to get that in now before the punching starts.”

The Sorcerer Supreme seemed to be hanging around pretty much all the time now (or at least all the times that I could remember) and he was pretty good at moving the alcohol just out of my reach, or spilling it on the floor, or finding that the jug or bottle was empty. It was becoming harder and harder to keep that numbing fog around me, and it was starting to wear off. I’d never been so fucking frightened of sobriety.

The Reaver next to me – a big, beefy guy with grey skin, some kind of weird facial tassels, and bright yellow eyes – slapped my shoulder and roared with laughter. The casual blow almost knocked me off my feet.

“Twenty credits? You’re on, Earth man!” he bellowed. “I will enjoy taking your money when my friend destroys your pet rat!”

I winced. “Yeah, maybe try not to call him that,” I said, downing the last of my drink. I looked mournfully at the bottom of the cup. “He’s a little sensitive.”

“Did that piece of frozen space excrement just call me a rat?” Rocket yelled, on the edge of the make-shift wrestling ring. “Did he? Did he?”

“Yeah!” I yelled back.

“OK, you’re just trying to start a fight now.” Stephen rolled his eyes. On his shoulders, the Cloak tightened for a moment around his body. “This is beneath you.”

“So’s the booze since you spilled that bottle, asshole.” I shot him a quick, angry glare, but my anger was already burning away.

“I’m gonna rip out his gizzard and ram it down his throat!” Rocket howled. 

He tried to bounce through the crowd. A twelve-foot tall alien with bright purple skin, multiple arms and a face like the back of end of a Chevy grabbed him by the tail and hauled him back.

“That’s _my_ fighter,” the grey-skinned Reaver next to me said, letting out another great belly-laugh. “Hey buddy, show the hamster how hospitality works out in the boonies!” Raucous laughter ripped through the crew.

“Oh, dear lord.” Stephen’s drawl was supercilious. “It’s time we quit this party, don’t you think?”

“No way. I’ve got money on this.”

Rocket was screaming. The purple alien was screaming. Leaving Stephen behind, I shoved through the baying crowd to get a better view. Rocket had wriggled out of the alien’s grip and was busy trying to rip his spine out with his teeth. So much for comradeship.

The mood of the crowd was starting to turn ugly; I was getting shoved and pushed, so of course I pushed back. Something thumped the back of my neck and instantly my legs turned to jelly; I staggered, tried to right myself, dropped to my knees. Someone rammed into my shoulders and knocked me over. I slapped at my ARC reactor but my aim was way off. Panic clawed at my chest as the crowd closed in around me; I put my arms over my head, my breaths short and fast –

Hands closed around my shoulders, hauling me out of the mess of alien flesh, dragging me to the dubious safety of the corridor.

“Tony!” Stephen crouched at my side. I slapped at his arms, still panicking, my eyes wide. “Tony, you’re safe. Calm down!”

He grabbed my wrists. The Cloak slid off his shoulders and settled over mine, bundling itself into some kind of shawl, the weight instantly relieving some of the stress and fear. Gradually, little by little, I was able to get my breathing under control. 

“You’re OK,” Stephen said. I focussed on his voice, on the slow, measured cadence. “You’re OK.”

My fault. My own stupid fault, again. I’d let myself get in this position, kept chugging so much booze down my neck I was blind to danger. Idiot. _Idiot._ Sudden tears made my eyes burn, furious and demanding; I struggled to hold them back, wiping both hands over my face, finally just hiding in the welcoming folds of the Cloak. Useless. I was completely fucking useless…

“Let’s get you back to your room,” Stephen said.

“Just leave me here,” I croaked, still fighting tears. Shame swept over me in a wave, pooling deep in my stomach. 

“I’m not _that_ much of an asshole. Come on.”

I couldn’t let him see me cry, I couldn’t… “No.”

“Then the Cloak will carry you.”

“What? No –” But the Cloak was already moving, unfolding, gathering me up in its thick, soft fabric. I struggled but it was like fighting mist – the fabric moved as I moved, keeping me level, stopping me from tipping off. Stephen headed off down the corridor and the Cloak floated after him, taking me with it. The sorcerer didn’t say anything, didn’t even look around. I was glad for that. It gave me a precious couple of minutes to get my shit together.

The Cloak stopped outside my cabin, sinking slowly to the floor. I stood, legs still feeling like jelly. I staggered into the room and dropped heavily onto the bunk. The Cloak swooped in and settled around me like a blanket. I took a deep, instinctive breath, the deep, almost spicy scent of the fabric helping me relax. As Stephen sat beside me, the tension began to melt from my muscles, gradually replaced by exhaustion.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Only my pride.” At his sceptical glance, I added, “I’m OK, I think. Someone just got me in an awkward place.” I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck, wincing as my fingers probed the tender flesh.

“Let me look.”

“Dude, it’s nothing.”

He waved a hand under his face. “Doctor.” He pointed at me. “Mad scientist. Now stand up and let me take a look.”

“Drunk scientist,” I corrected.

“Do I have to get Shuri involved?”

“Not exactly Shuri’s favourite person right now,” I said, grimacing. “Alright. Do your worst.”

Standing, I turned my back to Stephen, letting the Cloak pool on the bunk. A rustle of cloth was the sorcerer standing, and a second later I felt the cool touch of his fingers on the back of my neck. The rough lines of his scars tickled my skin, sending little shivers down my spine.

His fingers moved over the base of my neck, dipping below the collar of my T-shirt to check my shoulders. There was something almost… reassuring about his touch, though the feeling was so nebulous it was hard to assign it such a concrete emotion. 

The spicy scent of the Cloak made my nose twitch, and for the first time I realised it wasn’t the Cloak – this was Stephen’s natural scent. A little exotic. A little comforting… a lot confusing. I pulled away, turning to face him and putting some space between us.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” I croaked, looking anywhere but at his face.

“You’ll have some bruises in the morning.” I felt the intensity of his stare. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me like that, and against my better judgement, I found my eyes drawn to his. “I think whoever hit you managed to nudge one of the nerves. But you’re moving, walking and talking, so I’m sure there’s no deeper damage.”

“Thank you. I mean it. You could have just let me get trampled.”

“I told you, I’m not that much of an asshole.” He gestured for me to sit back on the bunk, then sat beside me, leaning against the wall. 

“There are, uh, plenty of people on board who’d say it would have been a mercy killing.” I smiled, a brief, fleeting movement that wobbled and then vanished. The Cloak settled in my lap again. I fiddled with the fabric, playing it between my fingers.

“Do you still believe I should have let you die on Titan?”

I opened my mouth to say ‘yes’… and hesitated. 

“That hesitation,” Stephen said, dipping his head, “that’s all you need to give you your answer.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it’s not. The things we truly want – the things we truly need – they’re complicated. And they hurt. Sometimes they hurt so much we don’t think they’re worth the pain.”

I gave him a sideways glance. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

He held up his hands, the faint, ever-present tremble more pronounced now.

“I had God knows how many surgeries, endured the pain of each ‘recovery’.” He made air-quotes. “I sank all my money into cures and treatments, chasing down one rabbit hole after another, until eventually my career was lost. My friends…” He shook his head. “Well, I didn’t really have many friends to start with. But until I reached Kamar-Taj, I might as well have been on Titan, wishing that I’d been left to die.”

“You understand,” I said, staring at him with wide eyes. “My God, you really _understand._ ”

“And I also understand that life is a cycle. You feel as if you’re at the bottom now, but that means you can only get higher.”

“Or I could just kinda crawl along at ground level for the rest of my life. I feel…” I dragged my eyes away, looking at the ceiling, partly so he wouldn’t see the fresh moisture making my lids sting. I blinked until it was gone. “I feel like everything I do just makes my life worse.”

“You helped save the Universe. Isn’t that the definition of making life better?”

“That’s everybody else’s life. Not mine. I’ve got no job, no cash, no home and no girl.”

“That’s one way to look at it. That’s certainly the way I looked at my life when they locked me out of Kamar-Taj. But I sat there for… God knows, hours, I don’t recall. I kept banging on their door. I refused to let them keep me out, because through that door I saw one thing – possibility. Potential. A chance.”

“Pretty sure that’s three things, Doc.”

“You had to go and spoil my speech,” he said, rolling his eyes and letting out a huff of irritation. “I worked on that for hours.”

“You’re joking.”

“Maybe.” He smiled. “The former Sorcerer Supreme picked me up and showed me how to find my own light. I want you to see that the same thing is possible for you.”

“Is this some kind of wizard recruitment spiel? Because if I get my own Cloak,” and I squeezed the fabric, just a little, making it shiver in my lap, “then I’m totally sold.”

“You’re already a technological genius, you don’t need anything else to bolster your ego. But I _am_ trying to help you. I’m… I’m trying to be your friend, Tony.”

The simple power behind his words hit me like a hammer between the eyes.

“You _are_ my friend,” I said, without a scrap of sarcasm. 

All those times he’d scraped me up off the floor when I was hungover, making sure I had something to drink, making sure I hadn’t hurt myself. No one had made him do that. Or Shuri. Or Peter. They did it because, for whatever reason – and God knows, I was struggling to think of any reason – they liked me. Even though I’d turned into a drunken asshole. As opposed to the more child-friendly sober asshole version of me.

His smile was tentative, uncertain. I smiled back.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horrified by his own descent into drunkeness, Tony vows to lay off the booze and makes his apologies to Shuri and Peter. After realising that drinking has left him out of shape, he also vows to start exercising, and asks Stephen if he'd like to exercise with him - spot him on the weights, jog with him.   
> But after a little mild flirting, Tony is forced to confront the fact that he is attracted to Stephen, and now that he no longer has to play out the role society has conditioned him to play, he can be whoever he wants to be.

There were still… God, I’d lost track of time – days, maybe even a couple weeks before we were due to hit our solar system. I had no idea what the future held for me back on my home planet, but whatever it was, I had to face it as myself – scarred, hurting, but sober. I couldn’t keep hiding behind my drunkenness. It was time to start thinking about what I would do when the Reavers finally dropped us off. 

But first, I had a couple of apologies to make.

I found Shuri in the mess hall, picking listlessly at a bowl of… I didn’t even know what that was, but it didn’t look like something she should be eating. I slid onto the bench opposite her.

She flicked me a hard look. “What do you want?”

I’d expected her hostility. “To say thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Hmm. You’re not slurring your words and you do not smell like a distillery. Are you sober, Tony?”

“As a judge. Although I’ve met some pretty rad judges in my time.”

The hardness on her face melted, just a little. “Rad? Who even uses that word anymore?”

“Sure, geez, OK, make me feel even older than I am,” I said. “I’m almost fifty, that must be pretty ancient to all you young cats –”

“Stop.” She held up a hand, but she was smiling. That was good. “What’s brought about this change of heart?”

“Stephen picked me up off the floor. I mean literally picked me up. I got caught in a crush… look, the reasons why don’t matter.” I didn’t know why I was reluctant to let her know just how deeply my conversation with Stephen had affected me, but I felt that it was something we needed to keep between ourselves. Whether he felt the same way or not, I had no idea.

“And what are you intending to do with this new-found sobriety?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know yet. That’s something I need to think about, but I guess it depends on whether I’m gonna get arrested when we get back to Earth.”

“You are always welcome in Wakanda.”

“Thank you… I mean, thank you for everything.” Hell, why was it so hard to get the words out? Was I really so unused to thanking people? God, I really _was_ a douchebag. 

“You are not always an easy man to like, Tony Stark.” She dropped her spoon back into the bowl, looking at it with distaste. Her eyes softened when she looked back at me. “But that doesn’t mean that you are not a _good_ man.”

 

Still floating from Shuri’s unexpected praise, I spent the next couple of hours trying to find Peter. The kid was a nightmare to track down. In the end I hacked into a control panel and reprogrammed the life-sign monitor to locate a metabolism that was hyper as dicks. 

It found him within about thirty seconds. He was shooting hoops with Natasha in what was definitely _not_ an NBA approved court.

“Yo!” I called, staying near the door, where the heat wasn’t so intense, “I thought ‘the floor is lava’ was a game we stopped playing when we like ten!”

I assumed this section had something to do with engineering, judging by all the conduit I’d walked past, but the insides of this ship were like nothing I’d come across before. The long, wide, high chamber had several floating platforms above a floor that kicked off enough heat to cook a chicken. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure that chicken was me.

Peter waved, leaping from his crouched position on top of a railing. He bounced off a wall, grabbed a low-hanging cable the width of my wrist, and landed neatly beside me.

“Hey, Tony!” His face was red, shiny with sweat, his hair damp. He treated me to another of those wide, puppy-dog smiles. It finally felt OK to acknowledge to myself that I loved the kid. I’d spent a lot of time dancing around the fact, trying to deny that I had any responsibilities to him while at the same time trying to dictate what he did and didn’t do. It wasn’t fair to him to have one without the other.

“What is all this?”

Natasha, currently on a lower platform and with possession of the ball, swung under her railing, rolled in the air, and executed a classic superhero landing: - ball under her arm, one knee on the floor, free hand braced in front of her foot. It was kinda like the first move we picked up. Punch the bad guy – catch the hottie – land like a boss.

“This,” Nat said, straightening with a flourish, “is training.”

“You trying to re-create that scene from Star Wars? ‘I have the high ground?’” I said in my best Euan McGregor.

“Dude, no way.” Peter’s face twisted. “That would make me like a Sith Lord or something.”

“Or something.” I shook my head, looking at Nat again. “Is this the engineering section? Please tell me this isn’t the engineering section.”

She brushed past me, heading for the exit, gesturing for me to follow. Anything that resulted in us getting out of this Turkish bath was a bonus for me. Peter trailed behind us.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that this definitely, categorically, wasn’t part of engineering, wasn’t part of the ship’s drives, and probably wasn’t going to overheat before we got back to Earth?” Nat said as we entered the corridor. She kept tossing the ball in her hand.

“Have I gotta go beat up some mechanic now?” I hoped she was joking about the ship overheating, but I suspected she wasn’t. I wasn’t exactly an expert on space vessels but I’d recognised that _The Black Hole_ was a rusting relic.

“Nah, you’re good. Rocket’s on it.”

Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any safer. I made a mental note to go talk to the racoon.

“So, this training…”

“Gotta stay sharp,” Peter said. “No idea what’s waiting for us when we get back to Earth.”

I wasn’t ready to start thinking about what happen when we got planet-side, but it was a mental path I had to take. Even if we were welcomed back with open arms – if all was forgiven, if the nations of the world conveniently forgot that, despite our best efforts, we’d allowed half the population of the Universe to perish – I didn’t know what I was going to do. Taking back control of a company was a lot harder than letting it go, and I wasn’t sure that I even wanted it back. Stark Enterprises had made me an obscene amount of money, but the person it had moulded me in to – partially under the guiding hand of Obadiah Stone – wasn’t necessarily the kind of person that I wanted to be today. 

And then there was the whole Pepper thing… yeah. I shied away from those thoughts.

“Your Aunt May’s gonna be pleased to see you,” I said, deliberately ignoring Peter’s last comment.

“So, uh, MJ…” He looked awkward for a moment. 

“She survived the snap. She doesn’t think you did, though.”

He let out a breath. “Was she worried? Upset? I mean there’s no reason why she would be, we’re only friends but I like her, I like her a lot –”

“Slow down.” I patted his shoulder. “Remember that you’re an earthling, not a dolphin, and you don’t have to run your sentences together to get all the fishes to do your bidding.”

From ahead of us, I heard Natasha snort.

“Dude,” Peter said. “I’m not twelve.”

“Remember your adult words,” I advised, fighting the urge to ruffle his hair. “And in answer to your question, yes, MJ was upset. I think you’ve made quite an impression on her.”

“What should I do? Should I go see her first when we get back? Won’t she freak out?”

I put a hand over his mouth. “The very first thing we’re doing when we get back to Earth is dropping you off with May. She’s family, Peter.” His eyes widened, and I took my hand away from his mouth. 

“So what’re _you_ gonna do?”

“That, my young friend, is a question I’m not going to answer right now.”

“That’s because he doesn’t _have_ an answer,” Natasha called over her shoulder. “Why don’t you join us next time we train? Exercise keeps the mind motivated.”

“Think I’ll pass on that one,” I grumbled, glaring at her. Training with Nat was one thing – she was a known quantity. Training with Peter? He had way too much energy. It was exhausting just looking at him. 

“Maybe we could get some of the others involved?” Peter asked.

“I’m not playing basketball against the God of Thunder, kid. Gotta keep _some_ of my pride intact.”

“You might learn something.” He sounded surprisingly prim.

“Well gosh,” Natasha drawled, “maybe you might learn how to take down a bigger, stronger opponent.” 

“This is supposed to be fun!”

She laughed. “Whoever told you that?”

 

I drew Pete aside on the way back to our quarters, giving Nat a quick nod to say that I needed a moment with the kid. She nodded back, tossed the ball over her shoulder, and sauntered off. I grabbed it in both hands and handed it to Peter.

“Look,” I said, trying not to feel awkward. We stepped into the nearest room, a maintenance closest from the look of the boxes stacked against the wall. “I know I’ve been, kind of, uh…” Wow, this was harder than I’d expected.

“Kind of what?” How could someone so mature seem at the same time so innocent? 

“OK, I’m just gonna lay it on the line.” I was a grown-ass adult. I could do this. “So you know I’ve basically been drunk since we left Titan…”

His face tightened. “I’d noticed that, yeah.”

“I wanted to tell you I’m – well, I’m not gonna do that anymore. It’s not the kind of example I ever wanted to show you.”

“It’s OK.” His eyes searched my face, but I saw none of the condemnation – the accusation – that I’d expected. “I’m not an idiot, I know why you were drinking. Shuri told me a whole bunch of stuff about how the Government basically blamed the Avengers for the snap, how they stole your business, and about how your girlfriend…” He trailed off.

“Fiancé,” I croaked. “Pepper was my fiancé. Emphasis on the ‘was’.” 

“I’m sorry that happened, man.”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Me too. But the, uh, the lesson I should have been teaching you was that you shouldn’t run away from your problems. This ship is taking us back to Earth whether I like it or not, and everything I left behind will still be there when I get back. Nat was right – I _don’t_ have a plan.”

“We’re only human.” He smiled. “Well, some of us. I mean like Thor’s an Asgardian, and boy did I never think I’d get to meet one of those –”

Before I realised what I was doing I was holding my arms open. Peter’s smile widened. He stepped forward and hugged me, without reservation, the beat of his heart rapid against my chest.

I loved this kid. I really did. 

 

Alone in my cabin that night – trying to delay the moment I went to sleep, knowing the nightmares would wake me soon enough, without the numbing blanket of alcohol – I took the time to study my reflection. The ship’s quarters were pretty basic, even for a high-tech spaceship, but they did at least have a full-length mirror in the bathroom cubicle. I was pretty sure it wasn’t made from silvered glass, but I hadn’t had the inclination to work out what it _was_ made from.

The last couple of weeks had taken their toll on a body already ravaged by a decade of warfare. Back on Earth I’d dressed it up in expensive suits, tailored sports gear, and of course the form-fitting Iron Man suit. Only a handful of people knew the true extent of my scars, and I was careful to keep it that way. Every battle, every fight, every apocalyptic confrontation, left more scars, leaving my torso, arms, and legs a mess of white marks. My chest was the worst area; the ARC reactor had kept me alive, but the socket – lodged in my rib-cage, hovering just over my heart – had left a crater that had required hours of surgery to repair, artificial bone to replace the ribs and stimulate new growth, and skin grafts. 

I had nightmares most nights, but there were two that kept coming back at regular intervals. The first was a montage of images from my time in Afghanistan, after my convoy had been blown up and I’d taken the shrapnel damage that had changed my life forever. In my nightmares I floated in and out of consciousness, reliving the moment I realised that something was lodged in my chest that really shouldn’t be there. Even now, years later, the all-encompassing horror of that moment was still fresh in my recollections. 

The second nightmare was, understandably, more recent, and centred on the moment Thanos had stabbed me with my own nanite blade. It was still too easy to recall the red sky on Titan, the dryness of the air. Each iteration of the Iron Man suit was designed to be an improvement on the former. The irony of a suit that had almost killed me was thick enough to choke.

Pepper had known all of those things, had seen all of those scars. All apart from the last. They’d never bothered her. Most important of all, she’d seen the scars inside my head, the ones I couldn’t show to anyone, the mental trauma left in the mind of a man who’d never trained for combat but who’d picked up the sword anyway. 

I tried to study my reflection with impassive eyes. The scars were nothing new. They were terrible but familiar, something I’d lived with for a long time. Even the look in my eyes was familiar, though harder to bear – defeat, abandonment, confusion. Anger. I’d seen all of those things before. 

What I hadn’t seen were the dark circles beneath my eyes. The way my beard was losing its shape. The way my hair needed a good cut. I hadn’t seen the way I slumped, the way my shoulders hunched. And the most important thing that I hadn’t noticed –

“I am never drinking again,” I growled, after letting out a stream of muttered curses. I didn’t have the metabolism of a gnat, not like Petey, not even like I’d had ten or fifteen years ago. 

All the alcohol I’d consumed was sitting right on my gut.

 

I dropped down in the bench opposite Stephen the next day, dumping my bowl on the table.

“Morning,” he said. “You’re looking different today.” He gave me a quizzical look.

I stretched a hand over my chin. “It’s called careful grooming and a haircut,” I replied, glad that he’d noticed. “And good morning to you, too.”

“I never said anything about it being good.” His half-smile was unexpected. “How do people live in space without natural daylight?”

“The same way we do, I guess, with artificial lamps and a whole bunch of supplements. We’re all humanoid, after all.” I lifted my spoon from the bowl, letting the thin grey substance – like gruel only less fun – dribble off the edge. “Don’t tell me with all that pale skin you’re yearning for the sun?”

“Hard to believe, but true.” Stephen ate without reacting to the food, a sure sign that his hands hadn’t been the only thing he’d damaged in that car crash. “This lack of natural light is a little depressing.” 

“Well, you know what the best medicine for depression is.” 

He sighed. “If you’re going to tell me ‘exercise’, I’m going to be upset. The best medicine for depression is medicine.”

“Actually, I was going to say ‘talking’,” I replied with a crooked smile. “And you really helped me by talking.”

“Alright then.” His smile was relaxed. “Guess I’m not upset.”

“But now we’re on the subject of exercise…”

“You had to go and spoil my breakfast.”

“Dude, this stuff is like wallpaper paste.”

“Compared to some of the food at Kamar-Taj, this is virtually ambrosia.”

“Wow, that’s… man.”

“Tell me about it. So what’s all this about exercise?”

“I’ve been sat on my ass getting drunk for the last couple weeks.” I patted my stomach. His eyes flicked to my hands. “I need to shift a few pounds. Call me shallow, but I don’t wanna take this beer belly back to Earth. Or… whisky belly or… jet fuel, I don’t know, honestly I was just trying to get drunk.”

“And I come into this how exactly?” He arched an eyebrow. I could never tell him, but he had the coolest eyebrows I’d ever seen. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to buddy up? Like, be my running partner, shoot a few hoops, spot me on the weights? Assuming this ship has actually _got_ something we can use as weights. But Nat was training the kid yesterday. I can’t let the side down.”

“Me?” He seemed genuinely surprised and, I thought, pleased. “Wouldn’t you prefer to exercise with Peter?”

“God, no.” I shuddered. “He’s like the human equivalent of a sack full of puppies. He’s got so much energy it should be illegal.”

He let out a snort. “You make it sound as if you’re ancient by comparison.”

“I feel it most days,” I admitted, shrugging. “I’ve broken most of the bones in my body, in multiple places and more than once. I’ve got so much scar tissue I could star in my own horror movie.”

He held up his hands – gruel dripping down his spoon – to show me the scars on his hands, and said nothing.

“Guess we’re just a pair of grumpy old guys,” I said.

“Less of the old, Grampa.”

“What are you, like forty or something?”

“Or something. Look, are you sure you want to exercise with me? Wouldn’t you rather work out with one of your team mates?”

“If I spar with Natasha she’ll put me down in ten seconds flat. Ant-Man’s gonna Hulk out in his suit and bench-press a car or something. Thor… well, let’s just say I wanna be big and strong like Thor when I grow up.” My smile was sour. “You get the picture.”

This time both eyebrows went up. “So you’re saying you want to work out with someone to make you look good.”

“No! Well…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Kinda. But I’m not really… look, I just want to spend time with someone who’s not judging my useless ass, OK?”

And God, I had not intended to say that out loud. He’d already seen me at my pathetic worst, panicking after I’d almost got crushed, trying not to bawl my head off. What was it about this guy that made me want to spill my guts out to him? Especially after I’d started this voyage hating him?

“You think they’re judging you?” he asked.

“I know they are. I couldn’t keep my team together, so basically I’m a failure –”

“Stop. Stop it, Tony.”

“Huh?”

“You keep putting yourself down, trying to negate the positive things you’ve done.”

“Hard not to, Doc.” I fixed my eyes on the table so that I didn’t have to look at his face. So that I wouldn’t see his pity.

“What you need,” Stephen said, his voice quiet, thoughtful, “is someone who’s not afraid to call you out on your bullshit. Peter can’t do that, he worships the ground you walk on. The others, they’re too used to working with you, to working around your ego.”

I looked up, finally meeting his eyes. “Wow,” I said with a weak smile. “And I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” His smile was stronger than mine. Sincere. “Which is why I get to call you on your bullshit. Which I’m pretty sure is what I’m doing now.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling more positive. Something made the back of my throat tighten. “You’re right.” I reached across the table to slap his shoulder. “Buddy.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Call me ‘buddy’ again and we’re going to have words.”

 

Stephen met me outside my quarters a half hour later. I hadn’t exactly packed my exercise gear when I’d left Earth, but the grey sweatpants and white tank had been generic enough that I’d just shoved them into my bag without thinking. Stephen was similarly dressed, but his gear was navy, and he wore a zip-up hoodie rather than a tank.

“Do you need a license for those guns?” he asked, eyeing my bare arms. 

“Oh, these old things?” I flexed, grinning as he rolled his eyes. I couldn’t help it. It was like an automatic male response or something. Dogs sniffed each other’s butts – guys checked out each other’s muscles. 

“And you’re dragging me into this because…?”

I lifted up the hem of my tank, exposing the gentle swell of my beer belly. I slapped it with my free hand, then let the tank drop.

“That’s why,” I said.

Stephen was still looking at my stomach. His cheeks were a little pink. Why…?

He dragged his eyes away. They met mine. I wasn’t sure I was ready to understand what they seemed to be saying… or even if he was aware of what they seemed to be saying.

“Come on,” I said, clearing my throat. “Race you to the end of the corridor. Last one there has to tell Rocket he’s got fleas.”

 

“You could have told me you’ve got the staying power of an ox,” I growled later, throwing myself down on my bunk. My clothes were streaked with sweat, my hair damp.

Stephen leaned against the wall, arms crossed, equally as sweaty but somehow managing to look cooler. He’d unzipped his hoodie, the charcoal T-shirt beneath plastered to his chest. He looked good with a little colour in his cheeks, somehow more approachable. 

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he said with a wink. 

“You got a license for that wink?” I asked, teasing him with his own words. 

His eyes seemed to sparkle. For the first time I noticed that they were grey, pale grey, dancing with energy.

“I’ve got a medical license. That’s sexier, right?”

“Totally,” I said, letting my eyes linger on his. The cut of his beard, the arch of his eyebrows, the line of his jaw – yeah, he _was_ pretty sexy.

His soft laugh brought gooseflesh out on my arms. When he let himself relax – when he was just being Stephen, rather than Doctor Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme – he had a great sense of humour. I wondered if this was how he saw me? A guy shouldering the weight of his responsibilities? We both understood what that was like.

I was pretty sure that he understood me, too. And that was way sexier than his eyes, beard, or even that wink.

Although that _was_ pretty hot. 

 

When he was gone, I took a chemshower and sat on my bunk, thinking about Stephen and my reactions to him.

It was time to acknowledge to myself – if no one else – that I was attracted to him. As the CEO of Stark Enterprises I’d worked hard to build and maintain the image that everyone expected, that of the red-blooded billionaire playboy. Fast cars and fast women. What I’d never felt comfortable enough to bring into that image was the fact that I was bi. A couple of people had known – Obadiah Stane, Happy Hogan, Pepper – but it was never something I bandied about. Obadiah had just seen it as an example of ‘boys being boys’ and laughed it off. Pepper had hated it. She hadn’t said so in as many words, but I’d known she felt insecure enough about the women in my past that any mention of men in that mix was a red flag. Only Happy had seemed to accept without judgement. So I’d kept that side of myself buried deep, being the good little playboy everyone expected me to be. Apart from a few intense experiences in college, and a couple more super-discreet hook-ups in my early twenties, I’d toed the company line.

I wondered how Stephen would react if I told him. It was possible I’d misjudged the way he looked at me; hell, it was just a couple of glances. It was also possible I’d misjudged that wink. He’d become my friend, and I didn’t want to jeopardise that by just casually dropping my sexual preferences into the conversation.

But everything was changing, had already changed. I’d lost the company my father had put his name to, lost my fortune. Tony Stark the playboy CEO didn’t exist anymore. Tony Stark the fiancé was gone. Tony Stark the Iron Man – well, he was still here, and I guess he’d always be here for as long as I had access to the ARC reactor – but I wasn’t the man I’d been. The pressures of who I’d been were gone, the societal expectations.

I could be whoever I wanted to be. 

The idea was as exciting as it was frightening. But I owed it to Peter to show him that it was wrong to deny a part of who you were, just because society expected you to live a certain way.

And I owed it to myself.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over shared meals and exercise, Stephen and Tony grow closer.   
> Tony - still suffering from nightmares - goes to Stephen for comfort, and reveals that he is bi. Stephen's reaction puts him at ease.

Peter had managed to persuade Shuri to join him and Nat in their ‘training’ exercises. This time they’d found a hall that wasn’t actually some hellish part of the engineering section, and I was glad – Rocket had assured me that the ship was fine, that the heat in the other room had been a natural product of the engines, and that we weren’t all going to die in a fiery explosion. He’d seemed calm. I’d had no choice but to believe him, but the moment he started twitching his wiry little whiskers in the direction of the escape pods, we were out of here. 

“We could join them, you know,” Stephen said. We were sat on a bench, watching the three jump and tumble over the impromptu court as they tried to wrestle the ball away from each other. 

“God, no. Makes me feel old just looking at them.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Frightened of a little competition?” 

“That’s not competition, its warfare.”

He snickered. “Why not shoot a few hoops with me, then?”

“Uh, don’t know if it’s escaped your attention, but we don’t exactly have a ball.”

Stephen opened a small gate, reached through –

“Hey!” Nat yelled, as Stephen deftly stole the ball from her reaching hands.

“We have a ball,” he said, getting up and walking back a few feet. “We have a court.”

He glanced over his shoulder: - the others were running in our direction. He tossed the basketball at me.

I lunged and caught it with one hand. “No fair!” I shouted.

But I was laughing. And so was he.

 

As I was eating lunch in the mess hall a couple of days later, I watched Shuri and Peter talking. They had their heads together over the table; arms moving, hands gesticulating, using whatever they could find – bowls, cutlery – to demonstrate the points they were making.

Stephen sat beside me, sipping a mug of the not-coffee. We’d been drinking it long enough that we were pretty much used to it, and I was beginning to think I might almost miss it when we got back to Earth.

“What d’you think this stuff is made from?” I asked the sorcerer, eyeing the mug.

“I prefer to think that somewhere – on some alien planet – there’s a bean growing on a bush or tree or vine that looks very much like a coffee bean.”

“Well, that’s a boring explanation.”

“You’d prefer something more exotic?”

“Sure, why not? I mean, the most expensive coffee on Earth is made from beans fermented in a civet’s gut.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that you want beans taken from alien crap,” he said, snorting. 

“Right now I’d take coffee from anything,” I said, tapping my fork against my empty mug.

“Don’t look at mine.” He lifted an eyebrow, daring me to act. “I don’t share.”

“Come on, man.” I let my mouth droop and opened my eyes wide, waving a hand under my mouth. “This is like my best puppy-dog face.”

“Cute.” His eyes seemed to be glittering, tiny little points of light that sucked me in. “But I’m not sharing.”

“Cute?” I dropped the act. “I was going for pitiful. My acting skills suck.”

“I’m still not sharing my coffee. The machine’s right over there.” He nodded in the direction of the serving area. 

“Anyone ever told you you’re mean?”

“Frequently.” His lips curved in a smile. “And I’m disappointed when people don’t tell me, so really, you’ve just made my day.”

“Mean, cruel, terrible, selfish…”

“Keep talking.” He looked at me through half-lidded eyes, his smile now teasing.

“Nah, that’s it, I’m outta pillow talk.” My cheeks felt hot. I wasn’t sure that we were flirting, but that was what this felt like. Eager to change the topic before I made an idiot of myself, I looked at the kids. “You reckon they’re gonna hit it off?”

“Shuri and Peter?” Stephen turned to look at them. “Well, I think they’ve become good friends. But that’s not what you meant.”

“I’m probably just projecting,” I said with an awkward shrug, “but part of me wants them to get together.”

“Bit of a culture difference, though.”

“Sometimes its people’s differences that bring them together,” I said, feeling wistful. “Like, the Princess and the Geek or something. I can imagine the fanfiction now.”

“The what-now?”

“Fanfiction… come on, you’re telling me you’ve never heard of that?”

“I think you can safely assume from my blank look that I have not.”

“Dude.” I rolled my eyes. “OK, so let’s say you’ve got a favourite movie. Could be a book, or a TV show, or a video game, but the point is that it’s something you love. But you feel like maybe there’s a story the writers aren’t telling, an angle, or a moment or whatever. So you take the characters you love so much and you write your own story.”

“So how does this apply to Shuri and Peter?” He seemed genuinely baffled.

“Because there is a very healthy subgenre of superhero fanfiction,” I said.

“Oh, God.” Stephen’s mouth twisted, his distaste obvious. “You’ve read stories about yourself, haven’t you?”

“One or two,” I admitted, grinning. “But it’s like the ultimate narcissism. And you would not _believe_ the number of stories that are basically porn without plot.”

“You mean porn has a plot in the first place?” His quirky smile brought out one of my own.

“Well sure. I mean, the repair guy’s not gonna show up unless the washing machine breaks down, right?”

Stephen laughed. The skin around the corners of his eyes crinkled. I liked that. 

“You really think they might become an item?” he asked, tipping his head discreetly at the teenagers. 

“Anything’s possible. I know he’s crushing on this girl back home, but it’s hard to judge how much she’s into him. Teenaged girls are scary.”

“I didn’t really pay much attention to girls until I got my degrees,” Stephen said. His eyes slid away from mine. “Wasn’t much of a player at college.”

I felt my heart thumping against my ribs. Whether he knew it or not, he’d given me the perfect opportunity to admit that I was bi. But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t think of a way to work it into the conversation without sounding awkward. 

Before I knew it, Stephen finished his coffee, and the moment passed. 

 

“What I wouldn’t give for a cigar right now,” Stephen sighed.

Surprisingly, the ship did actually have a gym. Turned out space pirates were pretty serious about keeping their muscles in top condition, wherever the muscles on their weird alien bodies might be. It had been pretty easy to find a set of weights that were suitable for human use.

“I’m bench-pressing the equivalent of a small child right now,” I said, concentrating on keeping the weights steady, “and you’re thinking about cigars?” He was spotting me, but we hadn’t worked up to the really heavy weights yet.

“Social smoker,” he admitted, looking vaguely guilty. “Charity balls, mostly. Whisky in one hand, cigar in the other.”

“As a medical doctor you should be ashamed of yourself,” I chided.

“I was always the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ kind of professional. I was also an arrogant, self-centred prick.”

I settled the weights back in the cradle, sitting up. I reached for the towel and wiped sweat off my forehead. This was the first time he’d opened up about his life before his accident.

“Wow,” I drawled. “I never would have guessed. Nothing in our previous interactions would ever have given that away.”

“Is sarcasm a second language to you?”

“Please,” I scoffed. “It’s my first language.” I worried briefly that I’d misjudged the moment, that by choosing sarcasm over compassion he’d decide that I wasn’t ready to hear whatever he had to say about his past. Or that he wasn’t ready to speak. 

“Good, someone I can actually communicate with on my own level.” His quick smile was a relief, and told me one important thing – whatever he told me about himself, whenever he told me, he didn’t want sympathy. 

He looked at me. Hesitated. “How about we go for a run, ditch the weights for today?”

“OK, firstly, I’m not running against you again, like, ever. Second, when did weights become boring?” Maybe I _had_ misjudged, and he wasn’t willing – or able – to talk now.

“Oh, watching you get sweaty is never boring. And we ought to set up a regular jogging session – you’ll never improve your stamina if you don’t practise, Tony.” 

While I hadn’t been sure we’d been flirting the other day, when we’d watched Shuri and Peter talking, any time he talked about me and sweat in the same sentence couldn’t be anything other than flirting.

“Depends what I need to build it up for.”

Stephen looked away. He was good at hiding his emotions, but I knew him well enough now – at least I think I knew him well enough now – to realise that he was flustered, a response I wouldn’t have expected from the Sorcerer Supreme. And he was blushing, something I was pretty sure I’d never seen him do before. Maybe he hadn’t been intending to say what he’d just said. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to flirt back.

Either way, I liked the physical outcome. His pale skin looked good with a bit of heat. Then I wondered what his face would look like – what his skin would look like – after he’d had sex, and it was my turn to get flustered.

 

I woke with a scream clawing its way out of my throat. I slapped for the light, bathing my room in gentle yellow light, but it did no good – it couldn’t push the shadows of my nightmare out of my head, couldn’t make me forget the images that wrecked every single fucking night of sleep I tried to get. 

I’d pushed myself into the corner of the room, balled up with my legs pulled tight against me. Each panting breath rasped down my throat, and as my eyes began to tear up, I realised that they were wide and dry. 

Trying to pull the tattered parts of myself back together, I realised that the blanket was soaked with sweat. I screwed it up and tossed it across the room. I plucked at my tank and shorts, disgusted with myself. 

Every night when I woke up like this, I regretted giving up the booze. I wanted – no, _needed¬_ – the numbing power of alcohol. I felt as if I was coming apart a little at a time, piece by piece, until soon there’d be nothing left. I’d just be a husk. A shell. I knew I’d feel better in the morning, after coffee and something to eat, after talking to Stephen, but right now – right here – I felt that nothing would ever be right for me again.

Stephen. It was so easy for my mind to focus on him now, when I was scared and alone and hurting. I was a playboy billionaire, or at least I had been. I was Iron Man. I wasn’t supposed to get frightened, I wasn’t supposed to get choked up on my own self-doubt. But here I was, in the long, dark sections of the night, terrified to close my eyes. It was stupid, but being around him made me feel safe, and not because I felt that he was stronger than me, or fiercer, or a better superhero. It was because the places we were coming from, the things we’d had to endure, were both so similar. _We_ were so similar. Rich assholes, full of our own entitlement, thinking that nothing could ever hurt us. Until something had hurt us, and we’d had to change our whole world view. We’d had to grow, become better people. 

He understood me. My mind seized on that, worked it around, bouncing it off the inside of my skull. Talking to him always made me feel better. I didn’t want to wake him up in the middle of the night, but God, I had to do something or I was going to go crazy.

 

I stood outside his room, feeling awkward as all hell, wondering what I was doing here. I hadn’t taken the time to put on clean clothes or even find my shoes. But I’d already pressed the button on the intercom, so there was no taking this back now. I crossed my arms, bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, looking up and down the corridor.

The door slid open. Stephen was wearing loose black pants and a T-shirt. With his bare feet and rumpled hair, it was obvious that I’d woken him. Fresh guilt squeezed at my chest. 

“Tony.” His eyes widened. “What is it?” He searched my face. “You look terrible. Are you OK?”

“No,” I croaked. My throat tightened. “Sorry, I… man, I shouldn’t be here, I mean I’ve woken you up –”

“Come in,” he said, gently catching my shoulder. 

“I should go,” I said, pulling back. What the hell was I doing? At this point, I didn’t even know.

A heavy rustle of cloth behind him was the Cloak. It floated past him and draped itself over my shoulders, enveloping me in something that felt wonderfully like a hug. The fabric – saturated with Stephen’s scent – sent some kind of primal message to my brain, telling me that it was OK to relax. That here, with him, I could be safe. 

“Come inside,” he said again, standing aside to let me enter. 

I shuffled past him. I turned my face a little, pressing it against the collar of the Cloak, taking a secret little sniff. The Cloak stood taller than me. The fabric trailed a little behind me as I walked.

I heard the door close. I turned, still awkward. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. 

“So you’re having nightmares,” Stephen said. He stepped past me, twitching the blanket straight over his bunk.

“How did you _know?_ ” I blurted, clutching the folds of the Cloak around me. Almost as if it had become a shield between me and Stephen.

“Because I have them, too.” He waved at the bunk, gesturing for me to sit. I sank down onto the end, watching warily as he took the other end, folding his long legs so that he could face me. His back was straight, palms resting lightly on his knees.

“Curse of the superhero, right?” I said, shaking my head. “Look, I’m sorry for waking you, that was a dick move. I should go –”

“I’m glad that you came to me.” His voice was low, soothing. I liked it when he spoke like that. “Because that’s what friends do.”

I settled back against the wall, the comforting weight of the Cloak around me.

“So what happens next?” I asked. I was pretty sure that I could go back to sleep now, and maybe – just maybe – I wouldn’t have another nightmare. Tonight, at least.

“That’s up to you. We can talk, if you want.”

Here, in Stephen’s cabin, with the Cloak around me, I felt as if I was insulated from the rest of the ship. Hell, from the rest of the Universe. It was just the two of us – well, three, including the Cloak. I drew my legs up underneath me.

“I’d like that,” I said, playing the fabric between my fingers. “I don’t... uh, I mean, it’s just, other people in our line of work… we’re not exactly chatty.”

“That’s one of the things I’ve come to learn, and I think perhaps that it might be our greatest weakness. We consider ourselves to be different from ordinary people – not better,” he qualified, “but with a different purpose, a different set of goals, that make it impossible for them to understand our motivations. And yet, when we meet another living being who does share those goals, we ultimately find it difficult to get along.”

“Because we all started out alone.” I might not understand much about myself right now, about the way my life had changed – about how _I_ had changed – but this I understood. “When we started our ‘journeys’,” I made a deliberate air-quote, “most of us were alone. Working as part of a team doesn’t come naturally to us.”

“And yet here we are,” he said, gesturing around him. “Just you and me, talking on a ship in the middle of space.”

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “How do you do that?” I asked. “How do you take this guy who’s basically a mess inside,” I tapped the folds of Cloak that covered my chest, “and make him feel like everything’s going to be alright?”

He ducked his head, but not before I’d seen his blush. When he looked up again, he had himself under control.

“I’ve seen over fourteen million futures were things weren’t alright.”

Jesus. Apart from the day he’d told me why I’d had to live, he hadn’t talked about seeing all those possible futures, all the different ways we could have failed. He’d seen everyone die – again and again and again – and it hadn’t broken him. My respect for him – already pretty high – went up another couple of notches.

“How do you do it?” I wondered aloud. “How do you cope with your nightmares?”

“I could give you the sorcerer’s answer.” His eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. “That I meditate every day, and that through doing so I’m able to achieve a certain clarity of mind.”

“And what about Stephen’s answer?”

“I talk to Wong,” He shrugged. “I drink a lot of tea.”

While his answer didn’t provide me with any real insight into my own problem, I still found it deeply reassuring. Beneath the trappings of office, Stephen was just a guy.

“Thanks for not turning me away,” I said, feeling more comfortable. More at ease. Sleepiness was beginning to creep over me, but I fought it, for now. “These stupid nightmares always made things pretty tough with Pepper.”

“Oh?” It might have been my imagination, but I thought his posture stiffened when I mentioned her name. 

“I tried to talk to her about them a few times,” I admitted. “Pretty much like we’re doing now. But she… I guess she just didn’t want to listen. Or understand. Or… I don’t know.” Another shrug. “We basically ended up sleeping in separate beds. I kept waking her up.”

Stephen was silent for a moment. “Separate beds are not uncommon for couples.” He sounded cautious.

“I know. But, well… it’s not what I wanted for us. Every time I said good night was like another reminder that I was a failure.”

“You’re not a –”

“But that’s how I felt,” I insisted. 

“It must have been hard for you.”

“It wasn’t easy.” I felt relaxed enough now that I could tell him anything. Cocooned in the Cloak, the rest of the Universe seemed very far away. “We kept it between ourselves. But I guess I was already used to keeping secrets.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “I don’t follow.”

“My reputation as a playboy.” I hesitated. Well, it was now or never. “Hardly anyone knew that I liked the guys as much as the girls.”

“You’re bi?” His eyebrows formed two high arches on his forehead. Great. I’d managed to shock the un-shockable sorcerer. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I muttered, fingers tightening on the Cloak. It rustled its folds. I was squeezing too hard, and made my hands unclench.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” He dipped his head in apology. “Of course it’s not a bad thing. It’s just… well, it’s a surprise.”

“Pepper hated it.” I shrugged. “Turns out Pepper hates everything about me now, so…” It hurt less to talk about her when I was so tired. 

“Then that is her loss.” Stephen’s voice was surprisingly firm. 

“Still trying to tell myself that. Guess I’m not really there yet.”

For a moment he slumped, but he straightened up so quickly that I wasn’t sure whether I’d imagined it or not. My eyes were heavy, were already dropping, and it felt so easy just to let them close. 

The mattress dipped as Stephen leaned forward. He rearranged the Cloak more snugly around me, and I wriggled deeper into the folds. Surrounded by warmth and his comforting scent, I felt safe and secure in a way I hadn’t felt for years.

As I was drifting off, I thought I heard Stephen murmur something in my ear.

“You’re not the only one who likes guys too.”


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they grow gradually closer to Earth, their thoughts turn to what they'll do when they finally get home. Tony talks to Stephen about how he should try to patch things up with Pepper.  
> Later, a drunk Stephen comes to Tony's cabin, bitter that Tony's opening himself up to pain. They share a kiss before Tony comes to his senses and starts to care for his drunk friend.   
> The next morning, he helps the hungover Stephen again, but neither refer to the kiss.

I woke hours later, curled up beneath the Cloak. Stephen was gone. I waited to feel shame – to feel embarrassed that I’d woken up in my friend’s bed, that I’d come to him in the middle of the night for comfort – but that shame didn’t come. I’d never had a friend like Stephen before. Not even Pepper… or perhaps, especially not Pepper. 

She’d never really understood my nightmares. I was pretty sure she’d sympathised, but she hadn’t been able to empathise, and I guess after a while that had begun to hurt. Even though we’d were been engaged – had lived together – we hadn’t spent the whole night together in a long time. I’d frightened her. _Me,_ the one person in the world I’d wanted to keep safe over all others, had frightened her. 

I’d never blamed her for that, but after talking to Stephen – remembering the way he just seemed to accept me for who I was – her actions back then were harder to justify to myself.

I tried to push her out of my head. Thinking about Pepper, when I’d just woken up in someone else’s bed (regardless of the fact that nothing had happened) seemed crass. Had Stephen slept? I must have taken up most of the space. I _did_ feel a little guilty about that. But waking up like this… I stretched, luxuriating in the warmth, and the Cloak moved with me.

“Morning,” I said. “You’re a comfy dude.” And here I was, at a stage in my life where talking to a magical cloak felt completely normal. “Thanks for last night, buddy.”

The fabric shivered, one corner reaching up to gently stroke my face. I smiled, delighted, and sat up.

“Any idea where the big guy’s gone?” I asked. “Never mind. Unless you can answer that through the power of interpretive dance, I guess I could just wait and see.”

The Cloak slid away from me, hovering in the air. The air was cool against my skin, and I almost reached out to pull the Cloak back. Instead I watched as it mimed eating, shaping a corner into an ‘arm’ that lifted imaginary food up to its imaginary mouth.

I tried to pick through in my head what had happened last night, and how I felt about that. I couldn’t quite recall everything that we’d talked about – particularly right before I fell asleep – but I did know that I’d slept deeply, without any further nightmares. I also remembered that I’d told him the truth about my sexuality, and he hadn’t freaked out. But how he’d react to me now – in the cold, fake, electric light of a new day – I had no idea.

The door slid open a few minutes after I’d started thinking. Stephen strolled through, carrying a tray laden with plastic bowls, cups and utensils.

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d still be here when I got back,” he said. He looked… relieved? Was that it?

“What made you think I wouldn’t?”

He shrugged. The door closed behind him. He set the tray in the middle of the bed, then sat opposite me, careful not to jostle the tray.

“Thanks for putting up with me last night,” I said, reaching for the not-coffee.

“I told you, that’s what friends do. I may need you to repay the favour at some point in the future.”

I gave him a thoughtful look. Looking at him, you wouldn’t have thought that he was kind of person who suffered from nightmares. He seemed confident, strong in his own abilities, a master of his own environment. But I knew that was a shallow way of looking at the world. They could hit anyone, at any time. Knowing what I did – the experiences that I’d had – I knew that he was exactly the kind of person who might suffer disturbed sleep. When you put your life on the line like that, when you saw things – did things – that would make the average person run screaming… yeah, all of us were candidates for broken nights. Maybe I ought to talk to Peter about that one day soon.

“Any time you need an ear,” I said. 

He sipped from his mug, regarding me over the rim. There was an energy in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before; restless, searching.

“Do you mean that?” he asked. “When we get back to Earth, everything will change.”

I kind of understood what he meant. Here on _The Black Hole_ we were in our own little microcosm, almost like a closed society. It was a big ship, but there was a finite number of people on board, and definite boundaries. 

“Everything’s already changed,” I replied. 

 

“So we’re gonna be home in like, four days,” Peter said, shovelling food into his mouth. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do?”

“Teach you how to talk without using the word ‘like’ in every sentence,” I growled. Stephen and I sat at the same table most evenings for dinner; tonight, Peter and Shuri had joined us.

“You’re such a hypocrite, man.” He shook his head. “You do it too.”

I held a hand under my chin. “Older. Wiser.” I glanced at Stephen, who was looking at his bowl to hide a smile. “What was it you said the other day? Do as I say, not as I do?”

“Wakandan mothers have our own version of that saying,” Shuri said. “It is usually closely followed by a sharp slap, so they do not have to repeat it often.”

“I knew there was a reason your mom scared the shit out of me,” I said. Shuri giggled.

“So,” Peter repeated, “what’s the first thing you all are gonna do when you get home?”

“Well first…” I shook my head. “Figure out where home is, I guess.”

Peter – realising for the first time that maybe he’d steered us toward a sore topic – widened his eyes. “Shit, man. Sorry.”

“Language.” The others winced. “Gotta keep the Cap alive however we can. You know that.”

“Do you think there will ever be another Captain America?” Shuri asked, her tone sombre. 

“We’re bringing back his shield.” That meant something, even if we hadn’t been able to bring back Steve’s body. “If we find someone worthy… sure. Why not? I think he would have wanted that.”

“I never got a chance to know him,” Stephen said. “Other than what I’ve seen on TV. He seemed like a good man.”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. One of the best.” I cleared my throat again. “Well, this is depressing. So here’s what I’m gonna do when we get back to Earth – the second we touch down, I’m going to Burger King. Bacon, cheese, fries...” My mouth watered.

“Dude.” Peter actually licked his lips. “That is a most excellent idea.”

“D’you think if I wish really, really hard,” I said, dragging my spoon through the gruel-like slop in the bowl, “this stuff will magically turn into a steak?” I gave Stephen a hopeful look.

“That’s not how magic works, Tony.”

“Spoilsport.”

 

Stephen and I stayed at the table after the kids were gone, lingering over another cup of caffeine-substitute. 

“So what’re _you_ going to do when we get back?” I asked.

“Continue to carry out my duties as Sorcerer Supreme.” There was no hesitation in his answer. “Kamar-Taj has been without a leader for too long. Wong guards the New York Sanctum, but there are many influences that would threaten what I have worked so hard to protect.”

“Your duty’s real clear to you, isn’t it?” He nodded. “I like that. I wish I had a clear purpose. I used to think I knew what that was, but now…” I shook my head.

“You’re Iron Man. Surely that’s purpose enough.”

“Anyone can be Iron Man,” I said, dismissive. “I mean it’s just a suit. It doesn’t have to be me. My friend Rhodey proved that when he became War Machine.” 

“So what _will_ you do when we reach Earth?”

“Find out whether I can be Iron Man again, I guess. Find out where I stand with Pepper. The company’s gone – there’s no way I can take that back – but maybe Pepper…”

Stephen tensed, hand clenching around his mug. I glanced at him, surprised. 

“You want to try to work things out with Miss Potts,” he said. His voice was flat and hard. “Even after everything that’s happened between you.”

I didn’t understand his sudden animosity. Did his concern stem only from our friendship, or maybe – just maybe – was it something deeper?

“I… we were engaged, Stephen. We were living together. I wanted to marry her. Yeah, I think I need to try to work things out. If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, fine, I’ll write a line underneath it and we’re done.”

Given everything that had happened the last time we saw each other, I was pretty sure that we were already done. She’d certainly seemed to think so. But we’d killed Thanos. We had – belatedly – saved the day. Maybe that would mean something. 

“You’re opening yourself up to a lot of pain, Tony. She’s going to hurt you.” He hesitated. “Again.”

“If this is the end between her and me,” I said, feeling hollow, “then maybe that’s how it has to be.”

 

For once, it wasn’t the nightmares that woke me. A soft chime echoed through the room. I blinked slowly, realising that it was the intercom.

I levered myself off the bunk, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. I slapped the light button and shuffled over to the door, squinting at the panel as I tried to wake up. I thumbed what I thought was the right button, yawning as the door slid open. 

Stephen stood in the corridor, although ‘leaned’ might have been a better word. He had a hand braced against the wall, his head bowed, his other hand wrapped around… fuck, he was holding a bottle of the gut-rot _I’d_ spent weeks getting drunk on. Shit.

The Cloak – perched uneasily on Stephen’s shoulders – stretched around him, reaching for me, the cloth twisting in distress.

“Jesus, Stephen,” I said in a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up. I recoiled. His eyes were red-rimmed, blood-shot, telling me that he’d been drinking for hours.

“Everything,” he rasped. He took a single staggering step forward before he tripped over his own feet. I caught him, letting out a grunt of effort as I took his weight. My blanket dropped and so did his bottle; the Cloak snapped out, twining around the neck, stopping it a couple of inches from the floor.

“Thanks, man,” I got out, manoeuvring Stephen across to my bunk. I sat him down. The Cloak rippled, floating across the room so that it could put the bottle down in a corner. 

Stephen sank sideways, drawing his legs up so that he could curl up. His feet were bare. I found myself staring at them, transfixed.

“This smells of you,” he mumbled, nestling his face into my pillow. 

“Think that’s got a lot to do with the fact that I’ve slept here the last couple of months,” I said. I felt… God, I don’t know how I felt, seeing him tucked up in my bed like that. Excited? Concerned? He was clearly drunk. I couldn’t imagine sober Stephen ever doing this, and that made me a little sad. 

He made a sleepy noise, fumbling around him for the blanket that wasn’t there. I picked it up off the floor and draped it over him. The Cloak added its weight, settling around him. I tucked it around his long frame and sat on the end of the bunk, crossing my legs.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I asked. There was the possibility that he was just going to pass out before he got around to talking, and that was OK. I wouldn’t make him talk if he didn’t want to. I’d get him over his hangover, weather what would probably be a truly vile mood, and talk him into a better frame of mind. 

He’d done the same for me, too many times to count. 

“What’s going on?” He sounded unexpectedly bitter. “Nothing. That’s the problem.” He rolled onto his back, pushing a little with his feet until his back was braced against the pillows. He pulled the blanket and the Cloak more closely around him.

“I need a bit more to go on than that, Stephen.”

“We’ve been on this ship for weeks.” He glared at me, making me wonder what I’d done to warrant his irritation. “You’ve flirted with me. I know you have. I’ve… damn it, I’ve tried to flirt back, but this whole stupid seduction thing has always been a mystery to me.” He stopped, wrenching his eyes away from mine. “And now you’re going home to _her._ She ripped your heart out, and you’re going to let her do it again? What are you, some kind of masochist?”

I stared at him, dumbstruck. “I… I didn’t know, I mean…” Man, what the hell was I trying to say?

“I told you I was bi when you came to my room that night.” His eyes were burning, fierce grey light pinning me to the spot. “But I knew you hadn’t heard, you were half-asleep. I can’t… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried. I thought, if I drank… maybe… but that just makes it worse. Do you understand? It just makes it worse!”

A distant memory floated through my head. He _had_ told me he was bi, I remembered it now, but I’d been on the cusp of sleep. Had I thought it had been a dream? Wish fulfilment? 

“Take it from a guy who knows,” I rasped. “Drinking _always_ makes everything worse.”

“Potts doesn’t want you.” His voice had thickened, and moisture glinted in his eyes. My God… was he trying not to cry? Did he really feel that strongly about me? Or – as I suspected – was the alcohol exacerbating his emotions, stirring things up so that he couldn’t tell up from down? “She’s already proven that. But I…”

“What, Stephen?” I asked into the charged silence. I shouldn’t be encouraging this. He was drunk. 

“I want you.” He met my eyes, held them, made it impossible to look away. He sat up. Scooted closer to me on the bunk. “Let me show you.”

This was getting out of hand. We were hovering on the edge of something dangerous. Exciting, but dangerous. But the way he was looking at me… as if I was the only person who mattered… that was important. 

“Show me how?” I said. 

He leaned forward. His hand curled around the back of my neck. Before I could move away – before I could even think about moving away – he kissed me.

His lips pressed over mine, warm and dry. His tongue pushed inside my mouth. He tasted of bitter alcohol. He smelled so good – something spicy, something exotic – that, despite my shock, it was easy to relax into the kiss. His hand on my neck was gentle but the desperation behind his kiss was anything but. He bit my lip, hard enough to sting, not enough to hurt. I groaned. 

This was so right… but so wrong. 

I pulled away with a reluctant sigh, letting my forehead rest against his. He wasn’t in his right mind, and if we took things further, we’d damage the friendship we’d built. 

“Come on, man,” I whispered. “We can’t do this.”

“I don’t want to stop.” 

I owed him this honesty. “Neither do I. But you’re drunk. I don’t want you to hate me in the morning.” I pulled further back, deliberately putting space between us. “I don’t want you to hate yourself.”

“I already hate myself.” His tone was morose. “I saw you die millions of times and it broke me. It broke something inside.”

Oh, my God… I’d thought he was so together, that nothing phased him. I guess I’d already known that idea was wrong – he’d admitted to having nightmares – but I’d never realised it was like this. He was so damned good at keeping everything buttoned down. 

“But you also saw the one future where I didn’t die,” I said, gripping his shoulder. “You saw the one future where we worked together to save the entire Universe.” I squeezed. “ _You_ did that, Stephen. You were the one who saved us.”

He covered his face with both hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, what the fuck is wrong with me? You must think I’m a fool…”

“Dude.” I gently eased his hands down. “You’re the Sorcerer Supreme. You’re about as far from a fool as it’s possible to get.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked again.

The misery on his face cracked something inside me. I pulled him into a tight hug. He relaxed against me. The wild scent of him – his warmth – it was incredible. 

Eventually, I eased back again. I had to be the responsible adult. I had to do the right thing – the thing that meant he could look at me in the morning without regret. I would never allow myself to take advantage of him, no matter how much he seemed to want this. 

I reached for the plastic jug and cup on the shelf by my bed.

“Drink this,” I told him, pouring water into the cup and handing it to him. 

“I don’t want it.” He sounded truculent.

“Trust me, you’ll feel a little less grim in the morning if you drink this.”

“Maybe I want to feel grim.”

Something inside my chest clenched. He just seemed so… vulnerable. I wanted to hold him again, just to chase away that vulnerability. 

But I couldn’t let myself do that. If he remembered any of this… if he still felt the same… maybe…?

No. He was my friend. I had to patch things up with Pepper. 

I just had to keep reminding myself of that.

I watched as Stephen downed the cup of water. I poured another, making sure he drank that, too. His eyes were drooping. When he was in danger of dropping the cup, I took it from him. The Cloak helped him slide back down the mattress, then tucked itself around him. I draped the blanket over his lower legs and feet, then curled up against the wall at the end of the bunk. I fell asleep watching him.

 

I snorted, half-awake, finally conscious of the stiffness in my back. I came fully awake, sitting up with a stifled groan, stretching the knots out of my body.

I was alone. Stephen had gone, and with him, the Cloak. He was hungover, should have slept longer than me, yet he’d still got up and left. Concern pushed me to my feet. I hoped he’d gone back to his room, but there was no telling what he might have done – collapsed in a corridor, tried to go through a gate, who knew?

Then I remembered the kiss. I stopped where I stood, touching my lips, remembering the way it had felt. The way his tongue had pushed inside my mouth. In the Top Ten List of Ways to Fuck Up Your Friendship, that had to come pretty high.

But on some level, hadn’t this been what I’d wanted? Not for him to get drunk, not to see him staggering around – never that – but for him to acknowledge that he was attracted to me the way I was attracted to him?

I dragged a hand down over my mouth, then put my hands on my hips, thinking. That was true. What was also true was that I wanted to work things out with Pepper, and there was no way that I could make both of those things work. Guilt tightened my throat. Had I led Stephen on by flirting with him? I hadn’t set out to do that. Hell, the first time we’d come face to face in the ship, I’d hated him, or thought I had. After that, well, we’d slowly fallen into friendship.

Was he mistaking friendship for something more?

Was _I_ mistaking friendship for something me?

“Jesus,” I murmured. “How the hell did I let that happen?” 

I grabbed my clothes. I had to go find Stephen.

 

I found him in the mess hall, alone at our usual table. His hands were curled around a cup of coffee, steam curling up as he glowered at the dark liquid. He was huddled in the Cloak, the heavy fabric seeming to hold him tight.

I slid into the seat opposite. A corner of the Cloak lifted in greeting, but Stephen ignored me. That hurt.

“How you feeling?” I asked in a low voice. That seemed like a safe place to start.

“Go away,” he grunted.

“Nah.” He hadn’t abandoned me through any of my hangovers; I certainly wasn’t about to walk away now, regardless of what had happened last night, or the low guilt that twisted my stomach. “I’m guessing you don’t get drunk often, so you need someone to hold your hair out of the way while you puke.”

He looked up. His eyes were even more bloodshot than they’d been before; and for the first time I noticed fine lines around the corners. His hair was scruffy, the shadow of stubble spoiling the line of his beard. His skin seemed even paler than usual.

“Why are you so fucking cheerful?” he said, scowling. 

“Oh, just let me remind you of all the mornings you pretty much just twinkled at me when I was hungover.”

“I did not _twinkle._ ” He brought the mug to his lips and sipped. 

“Yeah… pretty sure you did.” I tried not to stare at his mouth.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he rasped, looking back down at his mug. “I… I shouldn’t have got drunk. I don’t remember much.”

“Don’t apologise. You put up with me way more than I deserved, so it’s only fair that I repay the favour.” I hesitated. “What _do_ you remember?”

I guess what I was really asking was whether he remembered kissing me. A perverse part of me wanted him to remember, because I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to see how far he was willing to go. How far _I_ was willing to go. But the safe option would be to hope that he’d just forgotten. That we could go back to our friendship, that the boundaries hadn’t changed. I honestly didn’t know which was the more selfish option.

“I remember that we talked,” he said cautiously. “Though I can’t recall what we talked about.” His eyes met mine for a moment, then slid away. “After that… it’s just a blur.”

His eyes told me everything I needed to know. They told me that the ball was in my court. He was denying all knowledge, giving me a way to back out of what had happened between us. He recalled perfectly well.

I think for a few seconds I hated him. Just a little. I didn’t want this to be my choice, though realistically I knew it had to be. If I wanted another chance with Pepper, I could never have anything more than friendship with Stephen. Even hungover, he understood that. He was being my friend. Again.

Something thumped in my chest, something warm and soft.

“Oh, well,” I said, finally yanking my eyes away, looking at the table, “mostly you were talking a lot of nonsense. Complaining about the food at Kamar-Taj, how Wong’s pretty much hooked on Starbucks, that kind of thing…”

“Good,” he croaked. I looked up at the pain in his voice. His eyes… I looked away again. “I’d hate to think that I was giving out the secrets of the Universe.”

Oh, Stephen. He understood that I was taking the pass. He’d already given out the secrets of the Universe – of _his_ Universe – and he was letting me keep them.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heroes finally return to Earth, but all is not well - Stephen, sensing something is amiss, vanishes through a gate, leaving Fury to fill the others in on the latest threat... the Undying Ones.

Finally, after weeks of deep space voyage, Quill told us that we’d just entered a stable orbit around Earth. 

“How do you guys wanna do this?” he asked as we gathered on the bridge. “We’ve got a couple of shuttles that can take you down, but it depends how much attention you want.”

“Kinda hoping we can fly in under the radar,” I said. I stared out through the massive window, arms crossed, transfixed by the sight of the planet where I’d been born. She was a beautiful blue-green jewel floating through the black void of space, and I’d never been so fucking happy to see her. 

I wasn’t so happy at the thought of what might happen when we actually touched down. 

“I think we’re close enough that I can send a message to S.H.I.E.L.D,” Natasha said, leaning over the console. An alien with orange skin and too many teeth tried to slap her ass; she grabbed his hand and twisted, making it shriek.

“Dude, don’t fuck with the guests,” Quill barked, slapping the alien around the back of the head. He scurried away without a backward glance, clutching his hand.

“Well, that’s one way to get access to the coms,” Natasha said with a shrug. “With your permission, Quill?”

He waved a hand. “Sure.”

“Are you going to come with us?” I asked.

Quill scuffed the floor. “Honestly, I don’t know. I mean I could – I’ve got family down there somewhere, at least I guess I still have – but…” 

“It’s not really your home anymore,” Stephen supplied from his other side.

I glanced at him. He’d dressed in what I’d once jokingly called his ‘business attire’; the blue coat and pants, boots with way too many straps, and of course the Cloak of Levitation. Among all these aliens, aboard a high-tech spaceship, it was weird that he didn’t look out of place. Then I flicked a look at Thor. Yeah, it wasn’t weird at all.

Stephen nodded a greeting. I nodded back. We’d carried on as if nothing had happened, and every day that hurt just a little bit more, especially as it had been my choice to make. For all that I’d said we’d stay friends when we got back to Earth, I was beginning to wonder if our friendship was already broken. That hurt, too. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Quill was nodding. 

“I feel something similar,” he explained, “although not, I’m sure, on the same level as you. Kamar-Taj is my home now. Visiting any part of New York that isn’t the Sanctum is… uncomfortable.” 

Yeah. Uncomfortable. That was one way of putting it.

 

Natasha managed to get through to someone at S.H.I.E.L.D, some chick called Daisy Johnson.

“What, as in Daisy ‘Quake’ Johnson?” I said, surprised.

“Yeah.” Her expression levelled out.

“What happened to Coulson?” 

“He’s dead, Tony.”

I swallowed hard. “‘TAHITI’ dead?” 

Nat’s poker face wavered, for a moment showing me a glimpse of her deeper feelings.

“No,” she said. “Real dead, this time. I’m… I’m sorry, Tony.”

“God…” I reeled. “No…” 

The news hit me like a blow to the face. Phil Coulson had brought the Avengers – the original Avengers – together to fight Loki and the Chitauri invasion of Earth, and he’d truly believed that we were decent people. Instead we’d argued and fought amongst ourselves like a bunch of little kids. Coulson had died trying to clear up our mess.

The knowledge that our actions (or inactions) had resulted in his death had finally made us start behaving like adults. Shamed by our own behaviour, stricken with guilt, we’d finally learned to work as a unit.

I felt Stephen’s hand on my elbow, looked up into his questioning eyes. He didn’t know S.H.I.E.L.D. He hadn’t known Coulson.

“Phil Coulson…” I cleared my throat, taking comfort from his touch. “He was a good guy. He, uh, he died.” I looked briefly at Natasha. “Then S.H.I.E.L.D brought him back. Kept it secret for a couple of years.”

The TAHITI program had been designed to revive a fallen Avenger, and by God it had. Coulson hadn’t used a super-powered suit; he didn’t have godly powers; he didn’t have an attitude problem and a love of the colour green. Even with decades of experience at S.H.I.E.L.D, he was the closest thing we’d had to a regular human being, and I’d been honoured to count him among the Avengers.

They technology Fury had used to bring him back… it was barbaric. If I’d known about it in advance – that they were using bastardised Kree science to take a dead human being and turn him into a living one – I would have shut it down. After the first couple of rumours, JARVIS had helped Nat and me hack into S.H.I.E.L.D records, and the truth had rocked us to the core.

“Aren’t S.H.I.E.L.D kind of like illegal now?” Petey asked. 

“We still have a job to do.” Natasha sounded clipped. “That part will never change.”

“What…” I cleared my throat. “What happened to Coulson?”

“Not sure. There seems to have been time travel involved.” From the sheen in her eyes, I could tell she was trying not to cry. “Daisy’s sending a Quinjet.” 

 

We gathered on one of the landing decks. I tried to put Coulson out of my mind; just another person lost in a long line of them, another good person, but I was pretty sure he was going to feature in my nightmares again at some point in the future. Nat and I had kept up the pretence that he was dead; now, we didn’t have to pretend.

Peter was standing with Shuri, almost hopping up and down with excitement, but all I felt was sadness. And reluctance. Leaving _The Black Hole_ was the final, irrevocable evidence that life had changed. On board I’d been able to pretend that things were a certain way, but that way was about to end.

But I’d be going to see Pepper. That was what I’d wanted. Right? Whether she threw me out on my ass, or welcomed me back with open arms, I’d still get to see her again.

My eyes slid to Stephen. He was looking at me. 

Thor strode out onto the deck. “It has been an honour to fight beside you all,” he said. “It is my hope that we should meet again, but when we do, I pray that it will be in better circumstances.”

“You and me both, buddy,” I said. 

“I got to meet Thor,” Peter murmured, a goofy grin on his face. He leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “D’you think he’ll let me have his autograph?”

I nudged him in the ribs. “You’re Spider-Man, you little idiot. You don’t need anyone’s autograph.” 

“Yeah, but he’s… like… Thor.”

I looked at Shuri. She rolled her eyes.

“OK,” Rocket said, strolling in through a door I hadn’t noticed. “Your Quinjet’s docked in the hangar next door. Oh, and there’s some dude with an eye-patch inside.”

 

In the end, there were five of us going home: - me, Stephen, Petey, Shuri, and Ant-Man. I’d spent a little tie with Scott Lang during the voyage, just shooting the breeze. He was an OK guy. Loved his daughter and was halfway in love with his girlfriend, Hank Pym’s daughter. I’d wished Scott luck, privately wondering if he knew what he was getting himself into; my father and Hank Pym had not got along. The Pyms were brilliant scientists, but their people skills sucked.

I recognised Maria Hill’s profile in the pilot’s seat. Nick Fury was waiting for us on the Quinjet. His face looked a little more worn than usual. It was goddamned good to see him.

“My God,” he said, standing with his hands braced against the back of a seat. “You bunch of misfits are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Eye,” I corrected.

“I even missed your shitty sense of humour, Stark.” He strode across the deck and clapped me on the shoulder. 

“Stephen,” I said, shrugging Nick’s hand away, “this is Nick Fury, ex Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, officially dead, still pulling strings from beyond the grave.”

The two sized each other up. Fury put his hand out; Stephen took it, his reluctance obvious, and they shook.

“So you must be the Sorcerer Supreme,” he said. “Still waiting for my invitation to Kamar-Taj, Doctor.”

“How…?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D knows everything about anyone,” I said, pushing past Fury and dropping down into a seat.

“Come on,” Fury said. “You don’t think you can battle some weird interdimensional dude in Hong Kong and we _won’t_ find out?”

“Remind me to strengthen the ward spells,” Stephen said, giving him a flat look. I held back a hard smile.

“So what’s the situation back on Earth, sir?” Peter asked.

“Sir, I like that,” Fury said, pointing at him. “Ya’ll could learn a lot from this kid.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I shook my head. “Look, all we wanna know is whether we’re gonna get lynched when we touch down.”

Fury sighed. “I’m not gonna lie. Opinion is divided.”

“But what’s the official line?” I held my breath.

“Officially, no one knows exactly who’s still alive. The United Nations have passed another Accord that basically says whoever makes it back to Earth alive is pardoned. There’s a bunch of other stuff we need to talk about, but we can get to that during the debrief back on Earth.”

I relaxed, feeling air rush back into my lungs. 

“A pardon?” Stephen stepped forward, and I knew from his tone that he was angry. “These men and women saved the Universe, and all they get is a _pardon?_ ”

Fury turned his single eye on the sorcerer, unimpressed. “It’s a _little_ bit more complicated than that, Dumbledore.”

“Aw, man,” I said, shaking my head. “Is this the S.H.I.E.L.D way to make friends and influence people?”

“The United Nations doesn’t know a damned thing about the Mystic Arts,” Fury said. He sounded uncharacteristically grim when he said that, making me wonder exactly what he wasn’t telling us. “And if your buddy here would like to keep it that way, I suggest he learns how to play nice with the big boys.”

“Tsk.” Stephen shook his head. “We’re working toward the same goals, ex-Director Fury. There’s no need for hostility.” 

He was smiling. It made me think of sharks.

 

The Quinjet – shielded throughout the outward and return journey – took us to a secret S.H.I.E.L.D facility somewhere in the Arctic Circle. Fury was cagey about the exact location. That was OK. If I wanted to know the location of all these hidden bases, all I had to do was take a little walk through the internet. Their firewalls were excellent, world-class, but I’d had a hand in designing a lot of their technology. Stark Enterprises had certainly funded it all. 

I wondered if Pepper still maintained that funding, although I doubted it. In between screaming at each other, we hadn’t exactly got around to discussing the finer details of how she was running my business. _Her_ business. 

We disembarked from the Quinjet. If I hadn’t known better, I might have said we were still on _The Black Hole_ – the facility had the same kind of grungy industrial look. Stephen trooped out in front of me, which is why I saw him take a single staggering step out of the jet before grabbing the railing.

“You alright?” I asked, gripping his shoulder.

He half-turned, mouth open, eyes wide. “Something’s wrong. The walls have been breached.”

“Shit,” Fury muttered. “Was kinda hoping we could get the debrief out of the way before we started on this.”

“What’s going on?” Natasha demanded. “Is there a problem?”

Stephen opened a gate in thin air. He leaped over the side of the steps, the Cloak billowing out behind him, and dived through. The gate snapped shut behind him.

“What the hell was that all about?” I asked.

“That,” Fury said, “is the ‘other stuff’ that we need to talk about.”

 

The secretive old bastard refused to answer any questions until we’d debriefed. He needed testimony of our actions, everything we’d done since leaving Earth, to give to the UN. It was tedious, but I understood the need to get it done. He was good at considering the angles. Right now I knew he’d be thinking about how to improve public opinion of the Avengers. We had a pardon from the UN, but that was a long, long way from forgiveness from the average guy on the street. 

So I sat in front of the camera and gave chapter and verse about what had happened. It was difficult – I’d spent weeks deliberately not thinking about these events – but I owed it to the fallen to give as full account as possible. I owed it to Steve Rogers. 

And on top of all that, I was worried by Stephen’s abrupt departure. Everything I knew about him told me that he took his duty as Sorcerer Supreme seriously; anything that would have made him take off without even a goodbye must be important. 

And on a more personal level, I missed him.

It was stupid. He’d only been gone a couple of hours. I should be excited about going to see Pepper… or frightened or… something. And I was. Mostly. But more than that, I missed Stephen. 

Fury gathered us all together into a conference room. There was coffee in the middle of the table – real, honest to God coffee, not something that had been crapped out of an alien’s digestive system – and Danishes. I was already salivating. I grabbed a pastry, poured myself some coffee, and sat down, kicking my legs up onto the table. 

“Make yourself at home, Mr Stark.” Fury’s voice was dry.

“Trust me, when you’ve been stuck in space for as long as we have, a whole planet becomes your home.” I looked at the others. They nodded. Peter – who’d beaten me to the pastries – nodded around a full mouthful. 

“Can we just get down to business?” Nat asked. She seemed on edge. Natasha Romanoff was many things – spy, assassin, bad-ass – but on edge was usually not one of those things. “I’ve been in a metal can for weeks fantasising about _pina colada,_ and I’m not prepared to let some vague new threat spoil my vacation plans.”

“Alright.” Fury leaned forward, bracing himself with his hands on the backs of a couple of chairs. “Here it is. Earth lost some of her defenders during the Decimation, and then more during the aftermath. Now we weren’t exactly defenceless, but we must have looked like a nice, tempting little doughnut, because some asshole came for tea without an invitation.”

I massaged my fingers over my forehead, trying to rub away the sudden stress headache that pulsed behind my eyes. We couldn’t even have a day before the shit hit the fan again? One goddamned day?

“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s some kind of terror from another dimension, right? Aliens would be way too simple.”

“Aliens wouldn’t make Stephen ditch us before he’d even got off the jet,” Natasha added. 

“There have been reports of attacks in several different cities across the world,” Fury continued. There was a laptop on the table – he pressed a key and a series of shaky cell footage appeared on the wall. “I don’t what the hell these things are, but they sure are ugly little motherfu –”

“Language,” I interrupted.

“Dude, I’m sixteen!” Peter said. Beside him, Shuri hid a smile behind her hand.

“You drag him into battle, but you’re worried he’s gonna get a potty mouth?” Fury shook his head.

“I did _not_ –”

“Guys!” Nat snapped. “This is not the time, OK?”

Peter frowned. “Mr Fury, it was my choice to join the fight.” He spoke with a quiet solemnity that belied his youth. Pride swelled in my chest. “I may not have known right then what I was going up against, but I’ll never regret making that choice.”

“Well spoken, Mr Parker.” Fury nodded. “But Miss Romanoff is right, we’re getting off track. I’m sorry.” This time he nodded at me. 

We spent a few minutes watching the projected cell footage. Whatever these things were, they really _were_ ugly motherfuckers; green fur, scarlet eyes, red wings and a lot of teeth. All the better for eating people with. 

“We can kill them,” Fury said. “They’re resilient, but they do go down. Beyond that, we don’t know a damned thing because they vanish when they die.”

“Well that’s just rude,” I drawled.

“I know. Least these assholes could do is just stay the hell where they are when they die.”

“So what’re we gonna do about this?”

“I’ve got S.H.I.E.LD operatives gathering intel, running interference where they can. So far there’s been no pattern to the attacks, no obvious schedule, no regularity. These freaks come out of nowhere, eat a whole bunch of people, then leave.”

“Alright.” I nodded. “Hopefully Stephen will know more.” I dragged a tired hand down over my face. “No rest for the wicked, right?”

“Then you’ll join us in this fight?” 

“We’re the Avengers. That’s what we do.”


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns Peter to Aunt May, enduring her fury. He then tries to patch things up with Pepper, but she makes it clear that their relationship was over before he left Earth.  
> Reeling from the two emotional blows, Tony turns to drink again.

With our testimonies recorded and time-sealed, and no new information about the green-furred assholes popping into and out of our world, Fury finally gave us the all-clear to go home. 

Except I didn’t have a home now. The Avengers complex had been trashed immediately after the Decimation, my other properties seized by the Government or sold by Pepper. So… homeless. 

But Peter still had a home. Someone who loved him. I had to get him back there.

We were all heading back to New York, apart from Shuri, so it seemed easiest for Nat to pilot the Quinjet; S.H.I.E.L.D had a private airstrip upstate, so she dropped us off, left the jet in stealth mode, and headed off to liaise with her people. 

Fury took me to one side before we left the Arctic base, pressing a wallet into my hand. 

“I’m not a complete bastard,” he explained at my curious look. “There’s a little something something to tide you over, just until you get back on your feet. The others have had their assets returned or unfrozen as a condition of their pardon, but _you_ were declared dead.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” I said dryly, flipping the wallet open. Wow. A couple thousand in one hundred dollar bills, a credit card, and a room key. Holy shit.

“Hotel in NY. Bill’s on S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Wow. That’s…” I was stunned. “Thanks, man.”

“Now I gotta go take Shuri back to Wakanda.” He looked briefly uncomfortable. “I am _not_ looking forward to the conversation I’m going to have with her mother.”

 

With my new cash and Peter trailing after me like a hyperactive puppy, I flagged down a cab. It was a relief to close the taxi door behind me – after weeks in a spaceship, the sights and sounds of the city were overwhelming. I couldn’t get over how damned noisy it was. There were smells everywhere, scents that I’d either never really noticed or had noticed so much that they just became part of the background.

“Hey,” the taxi driver said, giving me a sideways look as we got in, “you look just like that Stark guy, the one who went off into space and never came back.”

“How ‘bout that,” I murmured. I let him talk, the flow of his words washing over me, as much a part of New York as the smells and the noise. 

It was a relief to finally get out of the cab. I stood on the sidewalk outside Peter’s building, taking slow, deep breaths, hands on hips.

“You OK, man?” Peter asked.

I couldn’t lie to the kid. “Not really.” 

Breathe. Just breathe. I wished that Stephen was here. He’d say something – sprinkle a few words of comfort, or some acerbic little barb – and knock me out of my headspace. Aware that I was freaking Peter out, I made a huge effort to push all my feelings down deep, somewhere in the bottom of my chest, so that I could function.

I puffed my cheeks out for a moment. “Alright. I’m good.” I owed him an explanation, though. “It’s just… weeks in that spaceship.” That seemed like an inadequate explanation, since he’d spent the same amount of time in the same place. “I mean, that was like my fourth journey in a ship, and I have to say, not really a fan of interstellar travel.”

Peter’s eyes were thoughtful. “I guess I never really thought of it like that. That first time you came back from Titan…”

“Yeah. Didn’t think I’d make it.”

I’d spent time recording messages for Pepper. Talking to her in my head. She’d been the only thing that had got me through that long, awful journey. 

But that image of her I’d held in my head had been false. The reality was hard, and cold, and painful.

 

Peter knocked on his apartment door. There was no answer.

“Maybe we should have called,” I said, feeling awkward. “I mean like maybe she’s grocery shopping or something –”

The door opened, slow, as if May wasn’t sure whether she even wanted to open it. The woman staring at us on the other side sure looked like May – same face – but she’d aged ten years.

Guilt rose up in my throat, almost thick enough to choke me. I knew it wasn’t my fault that Peter had got into the fight against Thanos, but it still _felt_ as if it was my fault. It would always feel that way.

May squealed. Her eyes opened wide. She lunged forward, throwing her arms around her nephew, letting out little squeaking noises. He laughed and hugged her. 

He’d grown a couple of inches taller in the weeks we’d been away. Whether it was my fault or not, that was time together they’d never get back.

May drew back. She was crying, eyes still wide and now shining, frantic almost. Petey’s eyes looked suspiciously damp.

“I never stopped believing you were alive!” she croaked. “Even after the Decimation, I always knew that somehow you’d come back!”

“It’s all down to Tony.” He kept swallowing and clearing his throat. “He, uh…”

May looked at me. The change that came over her face – joy turning to vicious hatred – wasn’t a surprise, but it still hurt.

She pulled away from Peter and slapped me. My head rocked from the force of the blow, pain radiating through my head. She’d put her whole arm behind that slap. I’d seen it coming a mile away, could have blocked it or just stepped aside… but the part of me that felt I was still to blame wouldn’t let me move.

“May!” Peter’s voice whipped out. Sometime during his intergalactic journey, he’d developed a streak of authority, a hint of the man he would soon become. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s OK,” I said, rubbing my jaw.

“He knows exactly what I’m doing,” May snarled. She lifted her hand again – to slap or punch, it didn’t matter, I was just going to let her work her rage out – but Peter grabbed her arm.

“Stop it. Stop it!” With his other hand on her shoulder, he pushed her gently back into the apartment. I stayed out in the corridor. This was their home, not mine, and I didn’t have a place here.

“He took you away!” May yelled.

He let her go, then turned to me. That change that had come over his face was as dramatic as the change that I’d seen on hers, and was yet another indicator of the man he was fast becoming: - his eyes were hard, his mouth a thin, firm line. Whatever he’d decided, whatever decision he’d just made, he was going to stick by that come hell or high water.

“Come in.” He beckoned to me. So that was his decision – he wanted me to come inside, play happy families, work it out with his aunt. She and I both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“He’s not coming in my –”

“It’s my home too,” he interrupted. He turned back to May. “Or did that change, too, while I was gone?”

She recoiled as if she was the one who’d been slapped. 

“What has she turned you into?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go,” I said. “You guys need to talk –”

“I said come in, Tony.” He moved so that he could see us both. His nostrils flared.

“Take one step over that threshold and I’m calling the police!” May yelled.

It was definitely time to go. I couldn’t come between Peter and May, I just couldn’t. I’d spoken to her before, just once, before the survivors of the Decimation had gone after Thanos again; she’d been too numb to yell and scream at me, and in a way that had been worse. Her grief had been too raw.

“I’ll call you, Peter,” I said, feeling as if nothing I could say right now would be adequate. Nothing I could ever say would be adequate. “Stay in school, OK? And call MJ when you’ve finished being grounded.”

“I’m not a child, for Christ’s sake!” His anger – at me, this time – was unexpected. “Can you please stop treating me like a ten-year-old?”

I backed away, hands up, palms out. May’s anger – Pete’s – it was too much.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I gotta go.”

“Tony!” He started for the door; May pulled him back. I turned, walked out along the corridor, and left.

 

It was a relief to finally reach the hotel, but I was pretty sure that relief was going to be short-lived. I was glad Fury had already given me the room key so I didn’t have to check in; there was an anonymity in walking largely un-noticed through the lobby. There were a few double-takes, but I’d moved on before they could get a closer look. It wouldn’t be long before news of our return broke, but for now, I just needed a little space to myself before the media circus descended. 

A little time to prepare myself before I talked to Pepper.

The space in my room was unnerving, after weeks of being cramped in my cabin. The size of the bed, the storage closet – everything was bigger. Including the shower. But my God, what a shower. 

I took my time, just enjoying the hot water instead of a chemical powder that got blown through the shower stall with the force of a hurricane. You got that stuff in your eyes, you knew about it.

It was only the sound of a ringing phone that made me shut off the water. I grabbed a towel and slung it around my waist, darting out into the main room. I made to pick up the receiver, then hesitated. Who knew I was here?

“Maybe it’s just the front desk,” I muttered, but I knew I was deluding myself. I answered the call.

“Tony?”

“Shuri?” It was an unexpected relief to hear a familiar, friendly voice. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere over the Atlantic right now?”

“I am.” She sounded relaxed, at ease. “Mr Fury is with me. He gave me your number.”

“Give him a big old kiss on the cheek for me, will ya?”

“He’s old enough to be my grandfather.” 

“Bet he wouldn’t stop you, though.” I grinned despite the mess of emotions running through my head.

“You’re on speakerphone, asshole.” Fury’s voice sounded on the line.

I made smooching noises. I heard a faint click, then Shuri’s voice again.

“You are no longer on speakerphone.” She sounded amused. “He’s making gagging noises.”

That made me laugh. “So it’s not that I don’t like talking to you, ‘cause I do, but it’s only been a couple of hours. Did you pick up my ballroom gowns by mistake when we left the ship?”

She giggled. “I wanted to talk to you before we left the S.H.I.E.L.D base, but we didn’t get the chance.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not doing anything right now except dripping. I mean, like, from the shower. The best shower I’ve had in my life. God, I love indoor plumbing.”

Her sigh was heartfelt. “I am also looking forward to a shower that is not filled with chemical powder. Listen, I wanted to let you know that there will always be a place for you in Wakanda. If you would like to move here permanently, you have only to let me know.”

“Thank you,” I said, so deeply honoured that I felt my throat temporarily close up. I swallowed and ducked my head. “Uh… thank you.”

Shuri and her mother, Ramonda, had taken me in after my return to Earth. Wakanda had been my safe haven after I’d lost my job, my home and my fiancé. It meant a lot to know that I was still welcome there.

“Did Peter get home OK?”

“Yeah.” Shit, I was going to start crying real soon. Tears stung my eyes, and I couldn’t seem to get that damned tightness out of my throat. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice softened.

“No.” I coughed. “I mean, thanks, but no.” I had to keep everything inside, at least for now. Until I’d spoken with Pepper. If I let anything out now – if I turned the faucet on my emotions – I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop. 

“Any time you need an ear,” she said. “Have you heard from Stephen yet?”

“No.” That was another thing to worry about, and I was already struggling to keep all these balls in the air. “He’ll contact someone when he’s ready. I guess.” Though I couldn’t shift the fear that now we were back on Earth, he’d drop our friendship. He had his people, his responsibilities. And this new thing with the furry green monsters… he had his plate full. He didn’t need some washed-up, broken superhero hanging around. I slumped.

“You are his friend, Tony. If he contacts anyone, it will be you.”

 

I dried off, then dressed in the smartest clothes my limited wardrobe could provide – dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt. When I’d packed for the outward journey, it had been for comfort and practicality.

I ordered room service, then sat at the little desk, eating fries and a cheeseburger. I cried. I wasn’t really even sure what I was crying for, not when I had so much to pick from – guilt over getting Peter involved with Thanos; sorrow over May’s reaction to seeing me; fear and anxiety over Stephen’s abrupt departure. More fear about our new furry friends. Anxiety about what I was going to say to Pepper, how she would react to seeing me again.

But mostly I cried over how fucking good the burger and fries tasted after weeks of space gruel. 

 

I was watching the news, eating the last of my fries and repeatedly wiping my face, when I noticed the mini fridge. Maybe I could grab a bottle of water.

Or maybe, I thought a moment later as I opened the door, I could grab the miniature bottles of alcohol.

I closed the door and made myself a cup of coffee. I wasn’t going to drink again, no matter how much I wanted to. I especially wasn’t going to drink right before I went to see Pepper.

So I sat, sipping my coffee, watching the news. Trying not to look at the mini fridge. 

 

The last time I’d seen Pepper, she’d been in my office – _her_ office – at Stark Enterprises. Her work ethic had always been brutal, and although it was almost seven in the evening, I was sure she’d still be there.

What I was less sure about was whether her security would even let me in the building. 

I hadn’t utilised my Iron Man armour since the final battle with Thanos, but I needed it now. I stood on the balcony of my hotel room, then double-tapped the ARC reactor on my chest. Nanites streamed out of the plate, covering me from head to toe in just a few seconds. I closed my eyes, teeth clenched, inhaling the familiar scent – a little like metal, a little like plastic.

“Welcome back, boss!” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s light Irish accent sounded in my ear. 

“At least someone’s pleased to see me. How’re we looking?”

“The suit is at eighty-five per cent efficiency. Further repairs are required to reach peak efficiency.”

“Eighty-five’ll do,” I said. Thanos had worked a number on me during the final battle – several numbers, in fact – but I’d only had limited resources on the ship for repairs. “Is it operational for flight?” I stretched, testing the fit, feeling the nanite technology moving as I moved. 

“Yes, boss.”

“Good.”

I jumped off the balcony, engaging the flight drive. The thrusters kicked in, feeling as sweet as they ever did, pushing against my drop and propelling me skyward. 

 

I touched down on the balcony outside Pepper’s office. The light was on. She was sat at the desk, engrossed in a stack of paperwork. 

“Good luck, boss.” I heard F.R.I.D.AY’s soft encouragement a moment before I tapped the ARC reactor, deactivating the suit. 

I opened the balcony door and stepped inside. Pepper looked up, and I almost faltered, struck by the way she’d changed – the way responsibility had carved lines across her forehead, the way her eyes widened, even the familiar pink that spread across her cheeks.

Then her eyes narrowed. She stood up, moving to stand in front of the desk, and crossed her arms. She was wearing a fitted dress, a dark green that contrasted with her strawberry blonde hair. She wore it in a tight twist, and I was struck by a memory of the last night we’d spent together, before Stephen had shown up with Bruce Banner and some incredible story about an asshole called Thanos: - touching her hair as she slept beside me, pressing my nose against the nape of her neck so that I could breathe her in. 

The memory hurt. Seeing her like this – the way she looked at me, eyes clouded with suspicion – that hurt, too. 

“So you didn’t die this time, either.”

Her words hit hard. I drew a sharp breath. 

“Hi, how ya doing, how was your day? Mine was great,” I said.

“Leave.” Her voice hardened. “Now.”

“Please,” I said, holding my hands out, already feeling desperation nibbling at the edge of my self-control. “Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Tony!”

“You don’t even want to scream at me some more?”

“I’ve said everything I want to say. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling Security.”

“But everything’s different now,” I said, almost begging. Hell, who was I kidding? I was totally going to start begging any second now. “Thanos is gone, the snap’s reversed –”

“Let me break this down for you,” she growled, striding across the floor. She stopped a few feet away, glaring at me, hands on hips. “I’ll use real small words so you can understand this time. The Avengers let us down. You, all your little superhero friends, you let us down. We looked to you for protection, and you _failed._ ”

“But the snap –”

“I don’t care if you reversed the snap! I mean I do,” she shook her head, irritated with herself, “but the point is that _millions_ of people died in the aftermath, all across the world. They’re not coming back. You didn’t reverse that. Even Happy, your own goddamned friend, you couldn’t save him.”

“You’re right,” I said, letting my shoulders slump. I felt the sting of tears and blinked them away as best I could, ashamed that, yet again, I couldn’t control my emotions around her. “And I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

The knowledge that Happy Hogan – my right-hand man for God-knows how many years – had died in a car crash hadn’t just been another crushing blow to bear, it had driven me to my knees. He was never coming back. None of them were ever coming back.

“Good.” Pepper’s voice was cold and hard. “You all fight your little battles, and you forget that ordinary people suffer. That ordinary people _die._ ”

“Why the hell do you think we fight?” I rasped, holding my arms out to either side. “We’re trying to _stop_ those things from happening!”

“You failed.” She crossed her arms again. “So I guess you can go now.”

“I still love you,” I blurted.

For a single fleeting second something crossed her face, an emotion that made her seem softer. More like the Pepper I’d known. Then the moment was gone, and with it any chance I had of reclaiming the life I’d known… and the woman I’d loved. 

“You’re not capable of love.” Her words shattered something inside me, something that was already broken. “If you were, you never would have fitted that ARC reactor after your surgery. You never would have run off with those freaks when I –” She cut herself off with an angry shake of the head. “You wanted a trophy wife, not a family, and I’m glad that I was finally able to open my eyes to the truth.”

The shattered pieces disintegrated into dust, a billion glittering motes that blew away. 

“There’s, uh…” I cleared my throat. Cleared it again. “There’s nothing I can say…?”

“No.” A sheen of moisture covered her eyes. “I told you before. We’re over.”

A spark of defiance – or maybe of pride, the last tattered remnants of the man I’d once been – made me try one last approach.

“I could fight you,” I said. My voice was trembling. “I could take this company back. I could get everything back. I’m alive. I’m _alive,_ dammit.”

“You can try.” That sheen was gone. Her face hardened again. “But I won’t make it easy for you. Stark Enterprises doesn’t need you.” She hesitated. “ _I_ don’t need you.”

 

I left. What else could I do? I’d won the war against Thanos, but ended up losing everything in the process, everything that had ever had any meaning for me. The woman I’d loved was gone; although I recognised the face of the woman who’d replaced her, she wasn’t Pepper. 

I flew back to my hotel room, changing into sweatpants and a tank top. I turned the TV on just to get a little background noise, thinking that it might stop me going over and over the things that Pepper had said.

I was wrong about that. Of course I was wrong about that. Nothing could stop that cascade of thoughts once it started, and I was helpless to do anything other than buckle up and hold on. I sat on the bed, back propped against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. At some point I’d have to just man up and think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, but right now all I could was wallow in my own misery.

Pepper had been wrong about me. I’d never wanted a trophy wife. I’d dated plenty of stunning women before; I could have had my pick of those, but I’d only ever wanted to marry for love. I loved Pepper. Except the woman she’d been was gone, and I felt as if I was mourning her death.

In a way, I _was_ mourning a death – the death of our relationship. She’d accused me of not wanting to start a family. It wasn’t as simple as that. By marrying her, we could have taken that first step. I hadn’t exactly been sold on the idea of kids – I’d always held my own parents as a shining example of what not to do – but I thought I would have got there, and sooner rather than later. I was pretty sure that some part of me subconsciously wanted children, whatever the higher parts said. Taking Peter under my wing had to mean something.

The cyclical nature of my thoughts took me right back to Peter. In a way, it might have been better if I’d never got involved in his life; I felt as if I’d dragged him from one conflict to another, this happy little puppy who was slowly turning into a war dog. He’d accused me of treating him like a ten-year-old, and he was right to make that accusation – subjectively, I knew that he was strong, fast, resilient, intelligent, and above all caring. He had a huge heart. But that was the problem – that heart made it too easy to love him, to want to protect him. 

It _was_ my fault that he’d got caught up in the war on Thanos, whatever he said. I’d encouraged him, helped him think that he could take anything on – do anything – be anything. In reality, what he’d been was another casualty of the snap.

I dug my fingers into my eyes, rubbing until they watered. Or maybe that was just my way of covering up the tears. It was pathetic – I was a grown man, almost fifty, but my life had turned to shit. Maybe Pepper was right, and I _had_ forgotten the ordinary people.

Each thought cycle was more vicious than the last, bouncing from Pepper to Petey and back again. Around and around, the same self-accusations, replaying the same conversations until somehow, the words ceased to have any meaning.

It hurt. It hurt like hell.

I don’t know how much time had passed before I noticed the mini-fridge again. I’d promised Peter that I wouldn’t drink again… but Peter wasn’t here right now. If May got her way, I’d never get to see him again. I knew from experience that alcohol would numb the pain, would make everything just that little bit easier to cope with, at least in the short term.

I also knew that the hangover in the morning would be hell. But that was a problem for the future. Right now, all I wanted to do was stop feeling.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurting, still a little drunk, Tony goes to Stephen for support. But Stephen is nursing his own drunken demons, and after a volatile confrontation, the two end up having sex.

It wasn’t working. There just wasn’t enough. The booze I’d been swilling on _The Black Hole_ had been a lot stronger than what the hotel provided. I’d laid all the bottles out on the desk. I’d opened them, one by one, then drank them. And there wasn’t enough. I was buzzed, barely drunk, but the numbness I needed had never seemed so far away. 

I ordered room service. Even the whisky wasn’t as strong as what I’d had on the ship, but it helped. I watched the level of the bottle get lower and lower, but still – _still_ – I couldn’t find the numbness I craved.

Stephen. I needed Stephen. He always had this way of just… making me feel better, about myself, about the world. About everything. Except he was off doing God knew what, God knew where. He wasn’t here. I needed him, and he wasn’t here. 

Well, if the mountain wouldn’t come to Iron Man, Iron Man would just have to go to the mountain. 

I slapped my ARC reactor, swaying as I suited up, and staggered over to the balcony.

“Boss, whatever it is you plan to do, I must advise against it,” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s urgent voice broke through the haze that was slowly covering my brain.

“Never drink and fly,” I mumbled. “Learned that the hard way, which is why I’m letting you take over. Plot a course for the New York Sanctum, will ya?”

“You’re going to visit Doctor Strange?” Her voice brightened.

“He’s probably off fighting green furry monsters. But he’ll come back. I know he will.” I knew that was probably just wishful thinking, but at this point I was out of options. I couldn’t – just could not – sit with my own thoughts anymore. 

“Good choice, boss. Calculating a safe route now.”

“You sound way too pleased about this.”

“Doctor Strange is your friend. He likes you. You like him.”

I thought back to the night on the ship when he’d kissed me. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Friends.”

 

I kind of checked out, letting F.R.I.D.A.Y take over the suit. I could have walked, could even have taken a cab, but I needed to keep the effects of the alcohol. If I started to sober up, I’d probably find myself outside Peter’s door. Neither of us needed to see a hysterical mother-figure fighting with a half-drunk father-figure.

I was only vaguely aware of F.R.I.D.A.Y setting me down outside the Sanctum. I’d only been here once, but I remembered the imposing wooden door, remembered the dark walls. I shut down the suit and raised my hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before I could make contact. I took that as an invitation and stepped inside.

It was dim in the lobby, candlelight providing the only illumination. A familiar figure hurried down the steps. Not the guy I wanted to see.

“Stark.” Wong stopped in front of me. “What’s wrong?”

“How about we start with ‘I was born’ and work from there?”

He frowned, peering into my face. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not as thunk as you drink I am.” He didn’t crack so much as a smile. “Or as much as I would hope to be. Where’s Stephen?”

“Getting quietly drunk upstairs.” He folded his arms, giving me a hard look. “I should send you away.”

“I’m just gonna sit on your doorstep until you tell him I’m here. That’s what he did at Kamar-Taj, right?” Then it penetrated my mind what he’d just said. “Drunk? Why?” I felt myself sobering up, just a little, and resented it. “Is it something to do with these green monsters?”

Wong sighed. “Yes. And no. I suppose I’d better let you see him.”

“Good man.” I reached out to pat his shoulder, but I misjudged and ended up patting thin air instead. “Good man,” I said again.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as each other. Follow me.”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, following him up the stairs. I clutched the bannister, taking each step with care. “That felt like a compliment.”

Wong let out a wordless grunt.

 

Stephen was in his study, sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair. One hand gripped a glass tumbler of something that was probably whisky. He’d tossed his long blue coat over the back of a chair and loosened the neck of his tunic. His clothes were rumpled, covered in smudges of dirt, his hair mussed. There were cuts on his face: - three shallow gouges crossed his left cheek, crusted with dried blood. His eye was swollen and puffy.

I stumbled forward, reaching for him without any idea of what I was going to say, only that I needed to know he was OK. But the Cloak – hovering protectively at his side – blocked my path. Before I knew what was happening it had enveloped me in the linen equivalent of a hug. A took a deep, reflexive breath, inhaling Stephen’s scent. Just the smell of him was enough to begin calming the jangle of thoughts behind my eyes. The Cloak pulled away, flipping through the air to hover in a corner.

Stephen was staring at me, grey eyes intense, focussed. That level of intensity was unnerving, but at the same time it was exciting. 

“What happened?” I demanded. Everything – all my own problems, the things I was trying to escape, to forget, to numb – burned away under sharp, hard concern.

“A new threat to Earth.” His voice was flat. “New, and yet old.”

I moved closer, slowly setting one foot in front of the other so that I wouldn’t stumble again. I finally sank into the chair opposite him. The Cloak fluttered a little, reaching first toward Stephen, then me. 

“You mean our green friends?” He wasn’t making much sense. 

“They’re called the Undying Ones. They’re ruled by an entity who calls himself the Nameless One.”

“Wow. Real original with the names. Has anyone taken a look at those scratches?”

“I’m a doctor, Tony.”

“Maybe I could –”

“You’re drunk,” he growled.

“Better check yourself before you start throwing stones,” I lashed out, hating myself even more than I already did. 

I tried not to let his reaction get under my skin, but it was hard; Peter, May, Pepper – I was already feeling vulnerable, and I hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol yet to numb me to that pain.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, knocking back the last of his drink. “Shouldn’t you be with Miss Potts right now, declaring your undying love even though she ripped your heart out?”

“Well geez,” I said, feeling my throat tighten up for the umpteenth time that night, “Maybe I was just having a shitty evening and wanted to talk to my friend –”

“Right, because it’s all about _you._ ” His snarl ripped right through me. “It’s always about you! How guilty you feel about Peter, how much that bitch Potts hates you, how _terrible_ things are for you. Did it never once occur to you that other people are going through their own hell?”

I stared at him, wondering what the fuck had happened to the man who’d become my friend. I’d always known he was blunt to the point of rudeness and beyond, had even come to rely on that bluntness, but this? It was just vindictive.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said, getting slowly to my feet. The room was spinning. “I’ll just take my problems and get lost, shall I?”

“Sure, why not!” He stood, too, unfolding himself from the chair, long fingers flicking in the direction of the door. “Run away from me just like you run away from all your problems!”

“I get drunk!” I shouted back. “How is that running away?” 

But I knew. I remembered Shuri’s comment, back on the ship, that I could never heal if I didn’t let myself feel through the pain. But who needed to heal when you could just stick a giant, numbing Band-Aid over everything?

“Because you’re not dealing with how you feel!” His eyes seemed to burn into mine. I wanted to walk away – to walk out – but those goddamned eyes kept me pinned. “You’re barely even _acknowledging_ how you feel! You’re just burying it, and it’s tearing you apart!”

We stared at each other. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t acknowledging how he felt.

“Then maybe I have to get torn up,” I said into the heavy silence. The Cloak fluttered between us, anxious, reaching first to Stephen then to me and back again, as if it couldn’t make up its mind who it wanted to comfort. I turned to the door, trying to see through the thin sheen of tears that blinded me.

“Wait,” Stephen croaked.

It was too late. He’d made it pretty clear how he felt. Maybe friendship had been convenient for him when we were on _The Black Hole;_ he’d been bored, nothing much to keep him busy, so he’d taken me on as a charity case. Something to make himself feel better. Now, back in the real world, he had real world problems, and I didn’t feature anywhere in those.

“Wait!” he called again. “I’m sorry –”

I took a few stumbling steps toward the door. The sole of my sneaker dragged on the thick carpet, shaking my balance, and before I knew what was happening I was sprawling on the floor.

Strong hands on my shoulders helped me up. A gentle touch under my chin lifted my face, and careful fingers wiped away the stupid tears that spilled over my lids. I looked up into Stephen’s face, seeing him through a liquid filter. His scent filled my nose again, the faint aura of his warmth seeming to reach for me.

I thought I was imagining the first brush of his lips against mine. They were rough and dry. When I felt them again, I knew I wasn’t imagining it; I also knew I should stop this, immediately, and leave. But I couldn’t. The few defences I had left were gone.

So instead I deepened the kiss, pushing my tongue past Stephen’s teeth. He tasted of whisky, warm and delicious, and I felt as if I could get drunk just on the taste. It was crazy. _This_ was crazy. But I couldn’t pull away.

His hands slid down my arms, his fingers twining with mine. It was an unexpectedly tender movement. Something in my chest twisted.

It was Stephen who finally ended the kiss, lifting his head, leaving me dazed and reeling. I blinked until my eyes were clear. Stephen’s face had softened.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I never meant to say any of those things.”

“What about the kiss? Your face… I don’t want to hurt you…”

“That was definitely meant.” His fingers gently tightened on mine. “And I’ll tell you if it hurts.” He looked as if he wouldn’t stop even if I _was_ hurting him.

I pulled away, confused, aroused, wanting… God, I had no idea what I wanted. His face fell.

“I can’t do this.” I held my hands up, trying to ward him off. “I… look, just a couple hours ago I told Pepper that I loved her, OK? And now I’m here, and you’re kissing me, and…”

His mouth thinned. The fire in his eyes seemed to fade, dropping to a flicker, but it didn’t die.

“And I still want to kiss you,” he said. “Potts kicked you out, didn’t she?”

I nodded, misery rising up inside me like magma in a volcano. I wanted to shout, to scream, anything just to get it out of me, but I couldn’t. 

“It was dumb to think she’d just magically change her mind,” I said. I couldn’t look at him, not while I was talking about Pepper. “I thought saving the Universe would give me this ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card, but all it got me was an ugly confrontation and a broken heart.”

Stephen bit back a ragged sound that finally made me look at him.

“She doesn’t want you,” he said, his voice a pained groan. “But I do, Tony. I’m here. I’m right here and I don’t want you to leave.”

“Why are you drunk?” I searched his eyes, trying to find some meaning in the way they flickered across my face. “I mean I know why _I_ am, but you…” It suddenly seemed vitally important that I know.

“For God’s sake,” he groaned. “The same reason as the last time. Because I want what I can’t have.”

He felt something for me… but he could only tell me about it when alcohol loosened his tongue? Jesus. We’d only ever be capable of hurting each other. 

“You know I’m rebounding, right?” I croaked. His hands holding mine felt… I couldn’t even put words to how good it felt, but the emotion swept through me from head to toe. 

“I don’t care.” His voice was suddenly fierce, his eyes burning into mine again. “I’ll make you forget her, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

This was wrong. This was _so_ wrong. We wanted each other, but neither of us was in the right headspace.

And right now I didn’t give a damn. Because he was looking at me with such desperate longing that I knew I couldn’t resist. I was tired of hurting myself and tired of being hurt by other people. 

I untangled a hand long enough to reach up and trace the shape of his jaw, gently playing my fingertips around the edge of his bruises. 

“Sometimes we do get what we want,” I rasped.

His eyes widened. He dipped his head and kissed me again. It was so tender I almost started bawling; I pulled my hands from his, twining my arms around his neck.

I felt his hand on my ass, pulling me even closer against him. Felt the hard, urgent shape of his erection pushing against me. I grabbed his arms and held on tight, hoping that the booze wouldn’t kill this before we’d really started. The kiss deepened; his lips mashed against mine, pushing them back against my teeth as his tongue thrust into my mouth.

He dragged his mouth away from mine, working a hand between us so that he could cup my crotch, long fingers tracing the shape of my cock. That first touch short-circuited everything in my brain and I gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

He pulled back half an inch, tongue sliding over my bottom lip, making me chase his mouth. Emotions boiled through my head like a great cloud; excitement, fear, nervous anticipation. Fear of disappointing him. Fear of rejection.

He shoved my sweatpants and boxers down over my hips. My cock sprang into his hand. I bucked against him, sensitive, wanting.

His thumb flicked over the head of my cock. I hung on to him as he stroked me, the movement just the right side of rough, but too soon the lack of lube made it uncomfortable. Panting, I stopped him with a hand over his wrist, kissing him to show that I wasn’t bringing a stop to the whole thing.

He dropped to his knees, sending a shudder running down my spine. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and the feeling I saw there – desire, maybe even reverence – was so powerful that I started to tremble. 

He broke eye contact but the trembling didn’t stop. His mouth enveloped my cock, his tongue seeming to swirl everywhere. The pleasure was so intense that I shouted, fingers clutching at his hair. I didn’t know whether I was begging him to stop or urging him to continue, and it didn’t matter because I couldn’t seem to form a single intelligible word. I looked down, seeing his saliva glistening on my cock.

He pulled his mouth away with a wet sucking noise. When he looked up again, his eyes were like liquid coins, molten silver-grey. He surged to his feet, hauling me close. His kiss this time was fierce, possessive, making me groan; to know that he wanted me this badly made me feel powerful, and I clung to that feeling, swept up by the moment.

Still in his arms, he moved me back across the room. I stumbled – sweatpants still around my knees – but he didn’t let me fall, and soon I had my back pressed against the wall. It was easy to let him take control. It was what my body wanted. Christ only knew what my head wanted, but at least we were in the same ballpark.

He kissed my cheek, my chin, the side of his neck. Everywhere tingled where I felt the faint scratch of his beard, my skin sending signals straight to my cock. 

He turned me around. I braced my arms against the wall, looking back over my shoulder. His eyes were blazing, chest rising and falling as he sucked air into his lungs. His lips were puffy. I guessed mine must be the same.

He moved closer until his body covered mine, kissing my neck, the side of my mouth. The hard press of his cock against my ass was exciting, and I ground back against him. He groaned in my ear, fingers digging into my hips.

When he yanked my sweatpants down even further, I quickly got the idea and toed off my sneakers, nudging them out of the way, then bracing myself on Stephen’s shoulder as he stripped me of everything from the waist down. He paused to kiss my bare ankle, reminding me that I hadn’t bothered with socks, then planted hasty kisses up the back of my leg. His breath was warm against my skin. When he reached the curve of my ass, I was trembling so hard he had to put his hands on my hips to keep me still.

He eased my cheeks apart. The first touch of his tongue over my hole made me gasp. I pressed my heated face against my arms as he worked his tongue inside me; I pushed back against him, needing more, needing everything.

I turned to look again as he pulled back. He was pulling a small bottle of lube through a gate, and as I watched he squeezed clear liquid onto his fingers. A moment later I felt a finger sliding over my hole. I held still, anticipating the slight burn as he pushed inside me, adjusting to the cold sensation. He added a second finger. The burn was sharp, but he let me get used to it until it faded.

I was OK – still more or less in control of myself – until he started fucking me with his fingers. Each slow, measured stroke sent shards of pleasure shooting through my body. I moaned into my arms, feeling my back arch, desperate to touch my cock but worried that I’d come too soon.

I heard a brief rustle of cloth. A moment later the head of his cock replaced his fingers, followed by the cold drizzle of fresh lube. His cock seemed a lot bigger than his fingers and for a moment I was afraid. I hadn’t been with a guy for years, but I’d never wanted to be with anyone more than I did right now. I drew a slow, shaky breath, swallowing as he kissed the side of my neck. Part of me knew that this was happening too fast, that we were about to cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. But I didn’t care. I wanted it too much. 

Who was I kidding? We’d already crossed that line back on the ship, when Stephen kissed me for the first time. 

I braced myself as he pushed inside me. It hurt. I drew short, sharp breaths, breathing through the pain, willing my body to relax. He kissed the side of my neck again and I tilted my head back. The sensation of his taller body holding mine twisted something inside me, causing powerful feelings I couldn’t fully identify.

He kissed the sensitive skin behind my ear. He kissed my cheek. I turned my head and he kissed the corner of my mouth, his arms folding around my chest. It seemed somehow unfair that he was fully dressed and I wasn’t, but I couldn’t summon the vocabulary to articulate the thought, not with his cock buried deep inside me and his hands working under my tank top. His fingers stroked my belly, my ribs, my pebble-hard nipples.

Finally he started to move, fucking me with slow, almost languid strokes. I wanted more. I pushed back against him, helpless to do anything other than react, quickly losing myself in the sensations he was causing. He built up the pace, working me higher; I hardly recognised the sounds coming out of my mouth. Normally I was the one in control but right now it just felt so good to let him lead. 

The hard slap of his balls against my ass filled the room. His rough, primal growls echoed in my ear. I couldn’t stop moaning, especially when he wrapped his hand around my cock and started stroking. 

The hard drive of his hips suddenly stopped, his hand leaving my cock. His arms tightened convulsively around me. He groaned, burying his face in my shoulder, his whole body trembling against mine as he came inside me. Then he gripped my cock again and, as he rode the last few strokes of his orgasm, he jerked me with rapid, hard movements that made me squirm against him. I’d been pretty close before, but each rough stroke – his fingers still slick with lube – drove me closer, and when he pinched my nipple it was enough to drive me over the edge. I came so hard it felt as if my whole body had tightened; I couldn’t make any sounds come out, even though I knew they were pushing against my throat. 

Then my throat unlocked, and all I could do was groan. I tried to stifle the sounds against my arms, almost embarrassed at the noises I was making, but I couldn’t stop until Stephen had wrung me dry. 

I stood there, aching arms still braced against the wall, panting as if I’d run a marathon. I became aware of sweat dripping down my face, sticking my tank to my torso. I felt the weight of Stephen’s body against my back, still exciting, his hand still holding my shrinking cock. I looked down. Correction: - his come-smeared fingers were still holding my cock. There were splashes on the wall. Jesus.

“Stay with me,” he whispered in my ear. His voice cracked on the last word. 

I turned my head far enough so that I could just kiss the corner of his mouth.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up before Stephen, wracked with guilt and a massive hangover. He creeps out before Stephen wakes up.  
> Back in his hotel, he's preparing to go to Wakanda when he's attacked by the Undying Ones.

When I woke I tried to nestle back into the pillow. The sheets were warm, the mattress soft, but my head was pounding. My eyes – when I slowly pulled them open – were gummy. My stomach churned. It wasn’t the worst hang-over I’d ever had, but it certainly wasn’t the best. I’d cocooned myself in a thick blanket, ivory-white, with elaborate gold embroidery that caught motes of sunlight pushing through the chinks in the curtains.

Then something moved beside me. I turned, mind a blank, trying to piece together what had happened last night and coming up blank –

Until I saw Stephen stretched out next to me, a plain white blanket slung carelessly low over his body. He was a front sleeper and he was naked from the hips up, giving me a perfect view of his back. Acres of pale skin, criss-crossed by silvery white scars, the blanket bunching over his ass. 

Dread made my stomach clench. Christ. Oh, Christ. I’d had sex with Stephen. 

A half-hysterical giggle bubbled out of my throat. I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. In the long, _long_ list of terrible things I’d done during my life, bad choices I’d made, and general fuck-ups, this had to be the worst. What had I been _thinking?_

But that was the problem. I _hadn’t_ been thinking. I’d been drunk. Fuck, _he’d_ been drunk. Maybe if one of us had been sober, this wouldn’t have happened. Surely – surely? – one of us would have had the common sense to stop before it got out of hand. 

I had to go. I had to leave before Stephen woke up, before I got sucked into an awkward conversation that would probably end up in an awkward row. How could I tell him that this had been a mistake? 

A thought struck me, one that made me rub the scarred skin over my chest. Maybe when he woke up it wouldn’t be me explaining that I’d made a mistake; maybe it would be him. In fact, it was almost certain that it would be him. He’d never allowed his attraction to me to show when he’d been sober. If he could only kiss me when he was drunk…

I rolled out of bed, misjudging the distance to the edge of the mattress and tumbling off the edge. I landed with a hard thump and a startled grunt. I froze, listening, but the tone of Stephen’s light snores didn’t change. I disentangled myself from the embroidered blanket, made a lame-ass attempt to fold it, and finally dumped it back on the bed. 

Moving slowly – head pounding, mouth dry, stomach churning – I looked for my clothes.

 

As it turned out, my clothes were pretty much scattered across the whole fucking Sanctum. At least that’s how it felt. My tank top was the only thing I found in Stephen’s bedroom. I was pulling it on, wondering why the hell I’d thought it was a good idea to leave my pants in another room, when I noticed an open gate over by the wall. And there, dumped in a heap, were my boxers, sweatpants, and sneakers. Thank God.

I stumbled through and got dressed. Each movement brought with it fractured pieces of memory; I tried to glue them together, but all I got was a jumble. The only clear memory in my head was the moment when we’d kissed, when he’d picked me up off the floor. _God._ I was such a fucking idiot.

I crept out of Stephen’s study, quietly closing the door behind me. I tip-toed along the hall and down the stairs –

Only to find Wong in the lobby, arms crossed, unsmiling.

“Oh, gee, hi,” I said, flashing a half-smile. “I was just leaving –”

“You should not go.”

“OK…” Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t it. “Uh…” I cleared my throat, finally becoming aware that I’d hunched my shoulders. I stood up straight. “Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll catch you ‘round.”

He was standing in front of the door, but stood aside as I approached. 

“He needs you,” he said.

That stopped me in my tracks. “How much do you, uh, know about…” I coughed, embarrassed. I’d never felt so self-conscious in my life. “About last night?” I finished. 

“More than I wanted to, since neither of you are capable of being quiet.”

“Oh, God.” I dragged a hand down over my mouth and chin, shame making my stomach clench. “Look, man, I’m sorry.”

“I have never seen him drunk before.”

“What – what are you saying?” God, my head was like cotton wool.

“You mean something to him.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Stephen was right – I _did_ run away from my problems, and I was going to continue to do so, starting right now. I pushed the door open, squinting against the bright morning sun.

“Where will you go, Mr Stark?”

God, how was I supposed to answer that?

“Wakanda,” I said after a moment’s pause, turning back. “There’s nothing left for me here in New York.”

 

I got a cab back to the hotel. The driver recognised me, and I had to endure his excited babble. He wanted to take a selfie. Given that I probably looked like shit, I gave him a flat ‘no’, then tipped him a hundred bucks to keep his mouth shut. He was pissed, there was no doubt about it, but money was money. 

I barely made it back to my room before I threw up, stumbling into the bathroom. I clung to the base of the toilet with each successive heave until there was nothing left to come up. Disgusted, I pulled the lid down and flushed, then dragged my aching body up. 

My whole body was sore, and despite just emptying the contents of my stomach I felt kind of bloated. I tore off my clothes and got in the shower, running it hot enough to parboil my skin. I just stood there for… God, I don’t know, still trying to sort out the jumble in my pounding head. Little bits were coming back. The way Stephen had kissed me so hard he’d pretty much bruised my lips. The look on his face when he’d gone down on me. Jesus. I was hungover, but I was still getting a hard-on. Especially when I remembered that once we’d got to his bedroom, we’d just carried right on.

I had to stop thinking about this. Twelve hours ago I’d been telling Pepper I loved her, but then what I done? I’d gone right over to Stephen and let him fuck me. What kind of a guy did that to the woman he professed to love?

Unless… I _didn’t_ love her? Could you stop loving someone?

It was too much to think about right now. My head hurt too much and so did my heart. I should probably go check on Peter, but the second May saw me she was probably going to start throwing things. No. He was better off without me, at least until he got his feet back on the ground. I’d told Wong I was going to Wakanda, so that was where I was going to go. I’d have the space and time to get my shit together and work out what happened next.

Eventually I had to get out of the shower. I had enough wrinkles of my own without adding any more. A towel slung around my waist, I padded into the main room, taking a moment to look at my hung-over self in the full-length mirror. God, I looked tired.

But as I flicked a look over the rest of my body, I realised that something wasn’t right. I frowned. Were my...?

I reached up with both hands, pressing my fingertips into the skin around my nipples. The flesh was a little tender. Not so surprising, when I remembered the rough way that Stephen had pinched them, but still… I turned sideways. There was no mistaking it – I had moobs. Just tiny little swellings, I mean I could hide them easily enough beneath a shirt, but my _God._ They had not been there yesterday. 

Maybe I’d picked up some kind of weird space bug. Or maybe time was catching up with me, and this was how the middle-aged spread started, even though I took care to stay in shape.

I dressed in fresh sweatpants and a tank top, slipped a light jacket over my shoulders, and fixed the ARC reactor to my chest. I dragged Shuri’s number out of the back of my head and picked up the phone –

The balcony doors shattered inward.

 

I slapped the reactor in automatic response, ducking away from the explosion. The nanites in my suit covered me from head to toe, shielding me from flying glass and plastic. I turned back, palms outstretched and ready to blast whatever had just destroyed my hotel room.

A massive – monster? – alien? – took a heavy step forward, clawed feet crushing the broken glass to smithereens. The thing was so massive the top of its head dragged against the ceiling. Rows of ugly teeth as long as my fingers spilled out of its mouth. I spotted red wings, folded tightly across its back. 

Scarlet eyes glared at me with undisguised hatred. Green fur rippled across a hugely muscled body, broken only by a dull, bronze-coloured breastplate covering its chest. Right… because a giant flying uber monkey totally needed armour.

“Somebody’s been eating his spinach,” I grunted, and gave it both barrels.

The palm-repulsors hit it square in that stupid breastplate, scorching the metal and knocking it back. It tumbled through the ruined balcony doors. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, alert Fury,” I barked, peering down into the street. With outspread wings, the monster was trying to break its fall before the ground broke its back. It hit the sidewalk with enough force to shatter the concrete slabs. Dark red blood pooled out from its smashed body. What was that line from the _Predator_ movie… ‘If it bleeds, we can kill it’. Well, this thing wasn’t getting up in a hurry.

Another flying monkey surged up the hotel wall and grabbed me, shooting away from the building and taking us high above the street.

I activated the shock shield. The monkey screamed and let me go; I engaged thrusters as I dropped, taking a precious second to survey the scene. I counted at least a dozen monsters swooping over the street, some already at ground level, others high above and folding their wings to dive. Vehicles below were grid-locked, their occupants scrabbling to get away. Given that just one of these freaks had smashed through the wall of my hotel, there was no guarantee that being inside would be any safer for these people.

I had to buy them time to get away before S.H.I.E.L.D and the cops showed up. 

“Time to go to work,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles.

“Boss, you know I hate it when you do that,” F.R.I.DA.Y chided. “You’re going to give yourself arthritis one of these days.”

“Don’t remember programming you for concern,” I said, activating the shoulder canons and sighting two of the targets above. “Also, probably gonna get eaten by some weird alien long before arthritis is a problem.” I fired off a couple of missiles, already scanning the ground. Three of the monkeys had landed and were blocking off one end of the street. 

Screeches from above told me that my missiles had hit. I risked a glance, seeing their charred, smoking bodies tumble out of the air.

I dived, pulling out a few feet from the ground, surging up so that I was skimming over the cars. I directed more power to the thrusters, demanding more speed, bursting past a couple of monkeys who were just arrowing down to street level. I hit them with a controlled burst from the palm-repulsors, then flipped in the air and come to a skidding stop in front of a group of terrified people huddling outside a deli. 

My head spun for a moment and I shook it, trying to clear the wave of dizziness. My legs were a little shaky. Hangover, I told myself, and not some weird space bug. Definitely not some weird space bug. 

“You’re not dead!” one kid said. He couldn’t have been more than about ten, and he was looking at me with a mix of awe and admiration that I hadn’t seen for a long time. “Everyone said Iron Man was dead, that he wasn’t coming back, but I never stopped believing!”

“Course he was coming back, kiddo,” an older guy said, slapping his shoulder with a newspaper. He was frail, in his nineties maybe, with a shock of white hair and heavy, black-framed glasses. “Everyone knows you can’t keep a superhero down!”

“Aw, shucks,” I said, glancing at the oncoming monsters. “Stop, I’m blushing.” Actually, I was, but it was more down to the weird hot flush than any embarrassment. I hoped like hell that I wasn’t about to puke in the suit. “You guys might wanna back away now!”

The group hustled back. The old man grabbed the kid – almost certainly his grandson – and hustled with them, leaving me to deal with Beyoncé, Kelly and Michelle. 

“I know you’re not ready for this jelly,” I said, repulsor-blasting Kelly and Michelle. Beyoncé, in the middle – of course she was in the middle, no one puts Beyoncé on the edge – took to the air.

“Nuh-uh,” I said. I pulled my arm back and activated an energy whip, watching as the orange stream of particles cracked through the air and wrapped around Beyoncé’s throat. The monkey immediately started clawing at the whip, massive wings still pumping as it tried to gain height.

I reversed the thrusters and pulled, setting my suit-augmented strength against Beyoncé’s. If I could stop it disappearing long enough for S.H.I.E.L.D to get it into some kind of containment unit, they’d have something they could study.

“There’s – no place – like home,” I grunted, tapping my heels together and adding more power to the reverse thrusters. “There’s no – place like – home!”

The monkey screamed and slammed into the road, bouncing over a couple of cars and setting off the alarms. The energy whip untangled and disintegrated, sending me flailing back; I stumbled, just managing to catch my balance before I fell. My shoulders and arms ached.

The monster’s massive claws flashed out, stopping its forward tumbling, ripping through metal as it came to a halt. 

I set the thrusters back to their normal position and jumped, aiming for a group of low-flying monkeys. In the distance I spotted a Quinjet, uncloaked, still at least a minute away but closing fast. 

Something slammed into me in mid-air, knocking me off my trajectory and sending us both tumbling. I fought to disentangle myself, but the monkey had well and truly fouled us – thick, leathery wings closed around me as it tried to rip my suit to shreds. The sound of claws on the nanite metal set my teeth on edge. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, divert power to the stasis bonds!” I said, trying to break the monkey’s hold.

“Boss, that is extremely ill-advised! If you don’t break out of free-fall –”

“If this asshole gets inside my suit it won’t matter if we hit the ground, ‘cause he’ll have yanked my guts out!” A memory flashed through my mind, there and gone: - Thanos, turning my own nanite blade against me, the slow, burning pain as he drove it through my flesh.

“Diverting power now,” she announced. 

These flying monkeys were built like tanks. I switched my attention from its arms to its body, punching that butt-ugly head. I felt bones crack, heard the monster shriek, but still it didn’t pull away. Pain streaked up my arms from each impact, settling deep into my shoulders.

Panic settled low in my gut – or maybe it was nausea – making me react without thinking of the consequences. I set both palms against that stupid breastplate and fired the repulsors. The impact broke the monster’s death grip, ripped us away from each other, leaving me dazed and still free-falling. An alarm sounded in the suit. I slammed into the ground, skidding through the asphalt road surface, coming to a hard stop against the back of an SUV.

My head was ringing. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, trying to work out why the world had gone sideways. I heard F.R.I.D.A.Y’s urgent voice in my ear but couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. The suit’s shock absorbers had taken the brunt of the impact, but pain still throbbed through every part of my body. I didn’t think anything was broken, but everything hurt like hell.

Clutching the SUV, I hauled myself upright, blinking. Disorientated. There were two monkeys in front of me – or maybe I was seeing double – but they were both running toward me. Relying on the auto-target, I hit them with repulsor blasts. My knees buckled and I grabbed the vehicle for support. 

A dimensional gate opened up halfway down the street. Stephen Strange strode through, an energy shield in one hand and a mystic bolt already primed in the other. The Cloak billowed around his shoulders. The guy sure knew how to make an entrance.

The flying monkeys honed in on him, dive-bombing with claws outstretched. He blasted the first couple with some well-placed mystic bolts, dodging the next set of sweeping claws and smashing his opponent in the face with his shield. Each monster he hit dropped, fur and flesh burned or still burning, smashing into the street below. The asphalt was smeared with blood.

I shook my head again, finally shaking off the last of the disorientation. The roar of the Quinjet’s engines temporarily overwhelmed the noise of battle as it landed on a nearby roof. I jumped into the air, wincing as my bruised body protested, cursing as the spinning in my brain made it impossible to keep a straight course. Relying completely on the suit’s auto-target, I picked off the last couple of monkeys, taking one down with a missile and another with a repulsor blast.

I sank back down to street level, but I misjudged either the distance or the speed and landed hard. The fresh impact left me staggering and I braced myself against the side of another vehicle, trying to get a handle on the field.

The monkeys were down. A S.H.I.E.L.D team had disembarked from the Quinjet, led by Natasha, rappelling down the side of the building. Stephen’s energy weapons vanished as he ran toward me. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you give me an ETA on the emergency services?” I didn’t see any casualties… other than myself. I was still trying to tell myself that it was a hangover, not a space bug, but I felt like crap.

“On their way, boss.”

The fight was over. I could stand down. Actually I was pretty sure I wanted to _sit_ down. It was stupid – I’d been in tougher battles than this, had even fought drunk as a skunk once, but one stupid little hangover and a collision with the ground, and my legs had turned to mush.

Stephen and Natasha reached me at the same time. I de-activated my helmet, nanites streaming back into the ARC reactor.

“Late to the party,” I grunted, and collapsed.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a S.H.I.E.L.D field office, Fury debriefs the team and Tony is given triage medical attention. When some unusual test results come back, Fury agrees to send him off to Wakanda for further tests - he is convinced that Tony has caught an illness in space.  
> Meanwhile Tony does his best to avoid Stephen - who assisted during the fight at the hotel - deliberately ensuring that they have no time to talk. But that doesn't stop Natasha, and the infiltrator soon finds out that Tony and Stephen had a one-night stand.

Things got kind of blurry after that. The suit was programmed to take me back to home base in the event that I lost consciousness, but since I’d lost my home base I’d deactivated the feature. I had to trust that Nat and Stephen would keep me safe until I my stupid brain stopped wigging out.

I was aware of movement. Light to dark to light again. I heard urgent voices, shouting, people I thought I recognised. I didn’t exactly pass out – at least not all the way – but I wasn’t completely conscious, either.

When full awareness came back, I was on a hospital gurney. The suit was gone, though the ARC reactor was still in place, stuck to the tank top. My jacket was… somewhere, but not here. 

Someone had stuck an IV in my arm. I was tired. Each movement – however small – felt like a real effort. I was bruised and aching. My head throbbed, and the inside of my mouth was dry as a bone. 

At least I didn’t feel as if I was going to hurl. The rest of me felt like shit, but gosh-darnit, I wasn’t going to puke. 

“It’s just a hangover,” I croaked, looking around the room, already pulling at the IV. Functional strip-lightning – no windows – rows of benches. I’d lay fifty bucks on this being a S.H.I.E.LD field office. There was a camera in the corner of the ceiling, and it revolved to follow me as I started moving.

A moment later a door opened. Fury entered, closely followed by Stephen and then Natasha. The scratches across Stephen’s face still looked bad, but the swelling around his eye had gone down a little. I guessed wizards had their own juju to speed up healing. The rest of us just had to slap a Band-Aid on things and call it good. Unless, you know, they had access to cutting-edge technology.

“You gave us quite a scare, Stark,” Fury said, standing to one side of the bed. Nat took a position in the corner of the room, while Stephen – as neutral as it was possible to be with cuts and bruises on his face – took the other side.

“What can I say? I like to live dangerously.” I plucked at the IV line. “Can I get this out? Or at least replaced with vodka or something?”

Stephen reached for my arm, removing the line and taping a patch of gauze over the small wound. The contact of his fingers on my skin triggered memories from last night; I looked away, but only found myself staring at Fury. For a guy with only one eye, he had a very knowing gaze.

“We’re still trying to determine why you passed out,” Natasha said, her voice cool, almost without inflection. “We’ve got the docs working on it.” 

“Come on, it’s just a hangover!” I said. Sometimes I envied her ability to – at least outwardly – keep her mind on the job. Then I remembered exactly what she’d had to endure to achieve that clarity of purpose, and decided that I wasn’t envious at all.

“I’ve seen you hungover,” Fury said, “and God knows it’s not a pretty sight, but it’s not like this. You spent weeks cooped up inside a spaceship with _aliens,_ Stark. I should have stuck the whole lot of you in quarantine the moment you stepped foot off _The Black Hole._ ”

“Am I gonna have to keep repeating myself?” I sat up, wincing as my head swam. I swung my legs over the edge of the gurney. OK, so maybe getting up wasn’t an option right now. “Hang. Over.” I pointed at Stephen, then Nat. “Neither of them are reeling around like a drunken sailor. Ergo, no space bug.” 

I tried not to look at Stephen. He was hungover – he _had_ to be hungover – but either sorcerers had some kind of mystic Alka-Seltzer, or he was just really good at hiding how shit he felt. 

“The fact that we don’t appear to be sick is the only reason we’re not in quarantine. He’s running tests on us all,” Stephen said. “Don’t feel bad that you’re not special.”

The hard barb in his voice made me wince. I’d hoped to be halfway to Wakanda before he woke up, and here we were, with no opportunity to talk about last night. More importantly – at least from more point of view – I had no desire to talk about last night.

“Uh, which one of us is walking around in a nanotech suit?” I said. I held up a hand. “Yup, that’s me, I’m special.”

“Doctor Strange here was about to give us the nine one one on these flying monkey dudes,” Fury said. “He thought you might wanna be awake for this.”

“He thought right,” I said, finally giving in to the temptation to flick Stephen a glance. I remembered that he’d called them the Undying Ones. That Fury _wasn’t_ referring to them that way told me that Stephen hadn’t yet shared this information with him. Even though he’d known since last night. Even though he could have gone straight to Fury rather than going back to the New York Sanctum and getting cosy with a bottle of whisky. And… me.

“The ‘flying monkeys’, as you so quaintly put them,” Stephen said, “are called the Undying Ones. They are minions belonging to an extradimensional creature calling itself the Nameless One.”

“Dude sure knows how to give out names,” Fury grunted, crossing his arms. I recalled that I’d made much the same comment last night. “What does this cat want?”

“Domination of our dimension,” Stephen said, shrugging. “The usual.”

“Oh, oh, the _usual,_ ” Fury said, laughing, slapping his thigh. He was showing too many teeth. “God help us if we ever meet some extradimensional freak who _doesn’t_ want the usual. So tell me – how do we know where the monkeys are gonna pop out next, and how do we stop the Wicked Witch of the West?”

“You don’t.” Stephen’s voice was flat. “This threat is mystical in nature, and that means it’s my jurisdiction.”

Fury straightened. “Well, then I’m afraid you and me are gonna have a problem. Because the Earth is _my_ jurisdiction, too.”

“Technically,” I said, “you’re not the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D anymore. So it’s not your problem.” He turned to glare at me, single eye burning. “Just saying.”

“Thank you, Mr Stark, for your opinion.” 

“How about,” Natasha said, moving away from her corner to stand between Fury and Stephen, “we learn to share our toys? It’s not like there aren’t plenty to go around, after all.”

“Come on, guys,” I said, rolling my eyes as Stephen and Fury continued to glare at each other. “This thing’s so simple you shouldn’t even be arguing about it. If we can work together to fight Thanos, we can work together to fight this Nameless asshole.”

“You’re out of commission,” Fury said, sour. “You gotta leave this to the bigger boys now.”

“Huh?”

“Look at yourself! Can you even stand up?”

“Uh…” I was going to have to go with ‘probably not’. “I’ll get back to you on that. But I still want in on this fight.”

“Not happening until you get a clean bill of health.”

“Come on –” I was a fucking superhero! This was my job!

“Did you or did you not sign the Sokovia Accords?” The glare he turned on me suggested that he had one nerve left, and I was getting right on it.

“All those in the room who helped defeat Thanos, raise your hand.”

“Oh, you think saving the world gives you _carte blanche?_ ”

“How many times did I save the world?” I asked, holding up my hand and counting off on my fingers. “First there was Obadiah Stane, then the crazy Russian dude, then the Chitauri invasion –”

“Think of it from a practicality point of view,” Natasha interjected, trying to dampen the flames. “You passed out during a fight. Granted it was the end of the fight, but what if that happens again? What if it happens when you’re surrounded and no one can get to you?”

She was right, dammit. I rubbed my eyes, tired, wishing I could grow enough backbone not to fall back on alcohol when things got too much… fearing that I always would. What the hell had I become?

“We’re not asking for much,” she continued. Her voice had softened. Fury was always ‘his way or the highway’, but Nat was an infiltrator, and there were a million different paths to get what she wanted. I suddenly hated her for that. “If it’s just a hangover, you’ll be fine by tonight. If not, you sit this one out until we’ve figure out what’s going on.”

“I don’t run away from fights,” I growled. My emotional problems, the train wreck of my life, sure. But a fight? Never.

“And you’re not running away. Just think of it as strategic redeployment.”

When she was being so fucking reasonable, there was nothing left to do but cave.

“Alright,” I grunted.

“Doctor Strange,” Fury said, his distrustful one-eyed gaze lingering on me before moving, “if you would like to come with me, we can have a conversation about this.”

I didn’t look at Stephen. He hadn’t stood up for me during Natasha’s assault, but neither had he taken her stance. I didn’t know what to make of that.

I braced my hands against the edge of the gurney, preparing to get up. My head had stopped swimming: - that was an improvement. But Nat’s hand on my chest held me back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“Well gee, I thought I’d at least talk strategy with the big kids.” I gave her a sour smile.

“You do know what benched means, right?”

“Nobody puts Tony in the corner.” I pushed off the edge of the gurney, setting my feet on the floor; my knees held for a second, wobbled… then buckled. Well, at least that answered that question.

Stephen caught me as I fell. “Asshole,” he whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t look at anyone. He helped me back on the gurney. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt as if his hand lingered on my shoulder a little longer than was necessary. 

 

Stephen and Fury left the room, leaving me with Natasha. She hoisted herself up to sit beside me on the gurney. 

“What, they’re not letting you play with them either?” I asked, trying to hide my nerves. Natasha Romanoff was an assassin, a saboteur, an intelligence officer. She acquired information as easily as she breathed. I was in for a grilling, whether I liked it or not.

“I like to play different games,” she replied, nudging me with her shoulder.

“Hang on, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a can of whipped cream around here somewhere…”

She didn’t smile. “What Fury was too polite to mention is the fact that, after you spent the night at the New York Sanctum, these Undying Ones suddenly focus their attacks on you. Why might that be?”

A lead weight dropped through my stomach. I shouldn’t have been surprised – we lived in an age of constant surveillance, and although S.H.I.E.L.D had officially been disbanded, the core operation had just gone further underground. But still, knowing that I’d been observed going into and out of the building felt like a slap in the face. Had they followed me as I took Peter home? Did they have a camera in the hallway outside his apartment? Had they seen May screaming at me?

Had they watched me make a fool of myself with Pepper?

“Maybe these flying monkeys just recognise that I’m a threat to them,” I said with a careless shrug. “Earth’s best defence, and all that.”

Her raised eyebrow told me I wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Alright,” I said, realising that a half-lie was the only way I was going to get her off my back. “I saw Pepper last night. Didn’t go so well. So I dragged my drunk ass to go see my friend.”

She lifted her eyebrow even higher.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got an extremely athletic eyebrow?” I asked.

“Every part of me is extremely athletic.” At least I’d made her smile. “But Tony, we’re friends. You can tell me the truth. It’s not like we didn’t see what was happening on the ship.”

“What?” I stared at her, horrified. “Nothing happened on the ship! I mean I got drunk – I got drunk a _lot_ – but – what are you saying?”

“You want me to spell it out? Alright –”

“Actually I’d rather you didn’t –”

“Stephen was basically mooning after you like a lovesick puppy –”

“We had sex last night, OK?” I blurted.

Mother _fucker._ What the hell had made me admit to that? Whatever was happening between Stephen and me – and I was pretty sure that last night had killed that anyway – it was private. I wasn’t ready for anyone to know. My whole world had been turned upside down, and I wasn’t sure that I could deal with anything else that knocked it off-kilter. 

“There. That wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

“Spare me your condescension,” I snarled.

“I’m sorry.” Her reply startled me. “I’m not trying to be condescending. I’m just trying to work out what’s going on, because like it or not, the Undying Ones have fixed on you.”

I hesitated, thinking hard. I realised that I wanted to tell her everything. I needed someone – anyone – to give me a neutral ear, a way of getting all this crap off my chest before I exploded. Back on the ship, Stephen had been my neutral ear, but now? He was about as far away from neutral as it was possible to get.

“We were drunk,” I admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “Coming back to Earth… I guess it just hit me a lot harder than I’d been expecting. Too much baggage.”

“That’s no way to talk about Peter.” But she was smiling. That made me smile, too.

“More like his aunt,” I said. “He tried to defend me in front of her. I love the kid, but I’m the worst role model he could have in his life, and she knows that.”

“But she didn’t always think that way.”

“That’s because she didn’t know me properly.” I fiddled with the gauze taped on my arm so that I didn’t have to look at her. “Everything I touch just seems to…” I used my hands to mime an explosion, whistling to indicate shattered debris falling far, far away.

“Didn’t go well with Pepper then, huh.”

“You mean you weren’t listening in?” I said with brittle cheer. I pressed a hand to my chest. “I’m shocked.”

“You knew what she was going to say before you even came back to Earth.”

“Yeah,” I said, miserable. “Didn’t stop me from wanting to hear something different, though. But I guess…” I took a deep breath, let it out. “That part of my life is over. I was about to call Shuri, see if my invitation to Wakanda was still good, when the ‘Undying Ones’ attacked.” I made air quotes. “And that is a really stupid name.”

“Well, no-one’s been able to study a corpse, so…” Her shrug told me that she didn’t care what they were called, so long as she could hurt them. “You feel up to some breakfast? Coffee?”

I listened to my stomach. The nausea seemed to have passed, though I was still a little dizzy. Low blood sugar, maybe.

“I could eat.”

“What are you going to do about this thing with Stephen?”

“Bury my head in the sand and pretend it never happened.” I didn’t know much anymore, but I knew that.

“And do you think he’s just going to let it go? You think he’s going to let _you_ go?”

“I think it’s not his choice to make.”

She rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know how love works, do you?”

“I don’t know how anything works. Not anymore.”

Nat’s fierce one-armed hug took me by surprise.

 

Stephen and Fury were arguing when we finally came out of the side room. I had enough strength back to walk, though I wasn’t moving quickly. My body still ached. Not surprising, even without the hangover to contend with – I’d hit the ground pretty hard and then skidded through a couple inches of asphalt. Of course I was still holding onto the hangover theory, because the other theory was too terrifying to contemplate for more than a few seconds.

They stopped shouting as soon as they realised I was there, both turning to glare at me.

“Oh, please, carry on arguing,” I said. “Don’t mind me. Unless you were arguing _about_ me, in which case… oh. You _were_ arguing about me.” I frowned. “What gives?”

“That’s not important right now,” Stephen said with a dismissive shake of his head. “We need to focus on the Undying Ones.”

“We will revisit this topic of conversation.” Fury switched his glare back to Stephen. I glanced at Nat; she shrugged, as bewildered as me. Or at least a lot better at feigning bewilderment. 

 

We were collared by a couple of doctors on the way to the nearest meeting room. I was taking care to walk with Nat, but it was impossible not to feel the weight of Stephen’s eyes on the back of my neck. If I got out of this without having to talk to him, I’d be lucky. It was selfish – I knew it was selfish – but it was the best thing for both of us, in the long run. Forget it ever happened. Move on. Smack some monkey butt.

“Sir, sorry to interrupt,” one of the docs said. He didn’t look in the slightest bit sorry, but he did look worried. And confused. Never a good look for a doctor. “It’s about Mr Stark’s test results…”

He had my sudden, undivided attention. “What about Mr Stark’s test results?” I grabbed his arm.

“Put him down,” Fury grunted. “What’s the problem?”

“Aside from the effects of excessive alcohol consumption, we’re detecting high levels of oestrogen in his blood.” He flicked me a nervous glance, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, find out why!” Fury said, glaring at him.

“Sir, with all due respect…” He cleared his throat, sharing a panicky look with his colleague. “This is a field office. We’re equipped for triage, not research.”

“I was on my way to Wakanda when I was attacked,” I said. “Shuri’s got access to the finest medical equipment and staff in the world.”

Fury gave me a long, measuring look. “Alright. But if she finds anything I wanna be the first to hear, you understand?”

“What, are you suddenly the boss of me now?” I wasn’t keen on the idea of him knowing my personal medical information.

He sighed. “As a professional courtesy, I would like to be kept informed if you’re harbouring any space plague.”

“OK.” That, I could do. “But I’m telling you. It’s just a –”

“If you say ‘hangover’ one more time, so help me God I’m gonna break your face.”

 

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” I grunted. I didn’t even want to know what ‘it’ was. I just knew that I wasn’t feeling real talkative right now. Someone had brought me coffee and a couple of doughnuts, and I was managing to keep them down, though they were sitting uneasily in the pit of my stomach. My body still ached, particularly around my back.

Now Nat and I were in the Quinjet, cruising over the Atlantic Ocean on the way to Wakanda. I’d followed her from the corridor to the hangar, deliberately making sure there was no chance for me to be alone with Stephen. His increasingly frustrated looks told me that I was in for a world of trouble, but that was later. Right now, I just needed some time – and space – to get my head together. Maybe it _was_ a good idea to stay out of this monkey business… at least for a couple of days.

“You can’t keep ignoring him forever,” she said.

“I know that.” So we were back to talking about Stephen. For all the emotional baggage they carried, Peter or Pepper might have been easier topics.

“How do you feel about him?”

“I told you, I don’t wanna talk about it. And you don’t seem bothered by the fact that I’m bi.” I’d always felt guilty saying that out loud – guilty for suppressing that part of myself, for buying into the image of the billionaire playboy that I’d projected to the world – but saying it now, that guilt was beginning to slough away.

“Why would I? I want to date a guy who goes green when he gets angry. Love is love, Tony.”

God. “We’re not talking about love,” I growled. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“You’re my friend. You’re hurting. The only person you let help you on the ship was Stephen, but he’s hurting too. You need help.”

I rubbed my fingers into my eyes. I did _not_ want to be having this conversation, but short of point-blank ignoring her, there was no way out. 

“What makes you think he’s hurting?”

“Because I know what it looks like to close yourself down. To control your emotions, bury them so deep you almost believe they don’t exist.”

I didn’t think he’d been burying his emotions. He’d been pissed that I’d walked out before he woke up. He was keeping a lid on that – but barely.

Unless she thought he was burying some other emotion… something deeper… 

“He can’t even kiss me unless he’s drunk,” I ground out.

“Maybe that’s because he doesn’t know whether you’ll _let_ him kiss you.”

OK. That sounded annoyingly reasonable. But she was completely missing the point. 

“Last night was a mistake. I can’t let it happen again.”

“What makes you think it was a mistake?”

“Because I’m basically a hot mess right now.” I settled more deeply into the seat. “I told him it was rebound sex.”

She winced. “You’ve got a real way with words, Tony.”

“I was drunk. Drunk me doesn’t seem to have much of a filter.”

“Not so drunk that you couldn’t have sex.”

“Drunk enough that it seemed like the best idea we’d ever had.”

And there was still a part of me, buried beneath the hurt, the pain and confusion, that still thought it was the best idea we’d ever had.


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Wakanda, Shuri breaks some incredible news - Tony is pregnant. He's left reeling.  
> When he breaks the news to Stephen, the Sorcerer Supreme immediately tries to find the magical cause.

The Quinjet was a smooth, fast ride, cutting the fourteen hour journey to Wakanda down to just a couple, and I managed to grab a little sleep on the way. It didn’t seem to do much good. I didn’t feel any better when I woke.

“You’re stomach’s growling louder than Fury,” Nat laughed as we disembarked. She almost skipped down the steps, but I took my time, holding the rail. My legs felt simultaneously stiff from sitting and weak from this stupid hangover; starting my stay here with a tumble seemed like a bad omen.

The Wakandan heat was a welcome counterpoint to the cool, controlled atmosphere on the Quinjet, and certainly better than New York. The Big Apple at this time of year was cold and damp, but the heat here was warm and dry. I might have been imagining it, but it also seemed to ease the ache in my bones.

“I could eat a horse,” I said. Then, peering at Nat, I added, “Skip the horse, you’re closer. Just let me take a bite real quick.”

“Come near me and I’ll break every bone in your body,” she said, laughing.

“Sweet. Real sweet.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

We’d landed on a pad at the top of a high tower, giving us an excellent view over the city. I’d always thought it was exquisite, a perfect blend of modern and traditional, man and nature working together in perfect high-tech synchronicity. The rag-tag band of Avengers and superheroes who’d survived the Decimation had regrouped here, safe under Shuri’s watchful eye, even though she’d been guiding her people through the aftermath.

Shuri emerged onto the landing pad, a group of Dora Milaje coming out behind and moving to flank her. She hugged us both in turn.

“I was glad to receive your call,” she said, “though I have to admit, I was not expecting to see you so soon. And I was less pleased to hear about these Undying Ones.”

“Good to see you too,” I said, smiling. It was good to see her again, even though it hadn’t been much more than twenty-four hours since the last time I’d last seen her. She’d become family – different from Peter, but still someone I cared about. “How’s your brother?”

“Embroiled in matters of state. I did not regret handing back control – I am a scientist, not a leader.”

“Bullshit. You led your people through the snap. Plenty of governments crumbled, but you’re the reason Wakanda is still the safest, most prosperous country in the world.”

She smiled, dimples forming in her cheeks. For someone so young, she always seemed so serious; it was good to be able to make her smile. 

“Come. Let me show you to your rooms,” she said. “Natasha, I hope you will be staying with us?”

“Sorry.” Her smile was regretful. “Duty calls.”

Shuri’s smile faded. “That is a shame. You are always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” They hugged again. Nat gripped my shoulder. “Fury’ll be in touch, Tony.”

“Sure. Happy hunting.” I tried not to feel sour about that.

Nat headed back to the Quinjet. I followed Shuri inside the building, the Dora Milaje escorting us in an orderly procession. I hoped this wasn’t going to be a long walk.

“Why does it seem as if trouble follows you around?” she asked, shaking her head as we took another corridor. Two of her guard followed; the rest peeled away. 

“Are we talking about the flying monkeys?” I asked. “Or the space bug that I don’t have?”

“Both. Either.”

“Well, I would say it’s my naturally attractive personality,” I joked, “but really, it’s just my naturally attractive face.”

Shuri laughed so hard she covered her mouth, turning away until she’d managed to get herself under control. Her eyes were dancing, her amusement still obvious.

“OK, now you’ve gone and damaged my sensitive male ego,” I said. 

“I’m sure your male ego can survive!” she replied.

I followed Shuri into a huge, beautiful atrium. Elegant white columns, spiralling and twisting like trees, supported a domed glass ceiling. Light shone over terraced seating made from warm, orange-brown marble, gradually sloping down to a small pool; plants hung over the edge, and I heard the distant sound of running water. There were several discreet doors around the edge of the atrium.

“This is beautiful,” I said, soaking up the peaceful atmosphere. 

“Thank you. Your quarters are through that door,” she said, pointing. “The dining hall is through there. The chef will cook whatever you require.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m starving. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be hungry at all if I was harbouring some kind of weird space disease, right?”

Shuri rolled her eyes. “I will let you get settled in. Feed your greedy stomach. Then we will begin the tests.”

 

I ate as if it was going out of fashion. In fact I ate so much I didn’t think I could eat another mouthful, except that when the chef – a tall, slender guy called N’Bene – waved a plate of pastries under my nose, I ate them all. When I finally sat back, I put both hands over my bulging stomach, slightly horrified at my food baby.

F.R.I.D.A.Y had already synched herself up to the network, so I asked her to let Shuri know I was ready. A couple of Dora Milaje escorted me down another couple of floors to a gleaming white medical suite. Shuri talked me through each procedure, but I kind of zoned out and just let her and her team get on with it.

But as each test proceeded, Shuri seemed to get more and more agitated. When she talked to her team her voice became clipped. Against my own better judgement, I zoned back in.

“What’s going on?” I said, unease coiling in my stomach. Hangover. It was just a hangover. I held on to that, even though I’d known – deep down – that it wasn’t that simple. 

I waited, tense and getting tenser, as she dismissed her medical team. She took my arm and led me to one side, pushing me down onto a stool. Her face was shuttered, locked down, but the wild look in her eyes told me that something was wrong.

“There is no easy way to tell you this…”

“Come on, Shuri. I’m a big boy. Give it to me straight.” I slapped my chest, psyching myself up. “I can take it.”

She took a deep breath. “Tony, you’re… pregnant.”

I stuck a couple of fingers in my ear, wriggled them around. Felt my face screw up. 

“Uh, sorry,” I said. “Run that by me again?”

“It’s crazy! I know! But you’re pregnant! All the scans reveal that you’re approaching the end of the first trimester –”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” I held both hands up. “Back up! Back right the fuck up!”

“You’re pr –”

“ _No._ ” I cut her off. “That’s bullshit! I’m a guy! A _guy!_ A human male! I can’t get pregnant!”

“All the tests confirm –”

“Run them again! Keep running them until you get a different answer!”

 

Hours later, I sat on a couch in the guest quarters Shuri had assigned, head in my hands. Trying to make sense of something that was completely fucking impossible. I wanted to believe that Shuri was lying, or that her medical equipment was malfunctioning, but I respected her skill too much to be able to cling to that idea. 

That hadn’t stopped me watching as she’d recalibrated all of her equipment. It hadn’t stopped me watching as she’d run the tests again, and again, trying to understand the physiognomy of what was happening to me.

Each test came out the same. Horrific, surreal, out of this world – none of those words covered how I felt right now. Shuri hadn’t wanted to leave me alone, but I’d pretty much just closed the door in her face. I needed this time by myself.

Standing, I shrugged out of the jacket Nat had recovered from my hotel, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t meet my own eyes, too afraid of what I’d see, so instead I looked at my feet and gradually worked my way up. Sneakers, check. Knees, check. Finally I turned sideways, lifting the hem of my tank top. 

The bulge I’d thought was a food baby was an actual baby.

I was pregnant and I didn’t have a goddamned clue how or why. It was like some kind of mad science experiment. I staggered away from the mirror, fresh horror welling inside me, pushing aside the numbing cloud of shock. I wanted to scream but it was stuck in my throat.

How the fuck was I going to have a baby?

Shuri had performed an ultrasound scan and given me the photos. I studied them now, dropping back down to the couch and spreading the photos out on the low wooden coffee table. I dragged a hand down my face. That little blob – that barely-human shaped little blob – was inside me, and it was a person, another living being. A human being. First trimester. Somehow, this kid was growing at a vastly accelerated rate. Shuri had tried to explain that I needed vitamin shots – _lots_ of vitamin shots – and probably meal replacement shakes packed full of nutrients, but in the end everything had just turned to so much white noise and I’d had to walk away.

I stared at the ultrasound photos, my horror turning to panic. My breaths came in hard whistles, rasping up and down along my throat, until I couldn’t do anything other than stare and breathe. 

Finally I managed to wrench my gaze away. I got up and started pacing. I couldn’t control the wild direction of my thoughts – hell, couldn’t even control what the inside of my body was doing, apparently – but this one thing, this pacing up and down, I could control. 

I tried to disconnect my mind from my emotions and think logically about something that had absolutely no logic. Somehow, my body had grown a womb. Somehow, it had formed a placenta which was connected to the life growing inside me. The moobs I’d noticed back in the hotel room, what I’d thought had been a consequence of middle age, were directly connected to the hormonal surges raging through my system.

And how was I even going to get this baby out of me? I shied away from that thought, because it meant looking into the future. I could barely even stand to look at the present right now.

My one consolation – if you could even call it a consolation – was that Shuri had ruled out alien infection. Fury would be pleased. How he would react to the truth, I had no idea, because I had no fucking intention of telling him.

“I could perform a paternity test,” Shuri had suggested. “I can access data banks from all over the world –”

“ _Paternity,_ ” I’d groaned. “Oh fuck, who’s the father? Who did I –?”

I’d stopped, frozen, fresh horror welling up in my throat. _Stephen._ I’d had drunk, unprotected, hugely erotic sex with Stephen. 

My unwilling brain forced me to think about that now. This pregnancy wasn’t the result of alien intervention, so that left only one possibility: - magic. 

I was going to have a magic baby.

I could... get rid of it. Yeah. Women did it all the time, for a variety of reasons, and I fully supported a woman’s right to make her own choices. But when I tried to put that thought next to the idea of having a baby, I couldn’t make them mesh. 

I put my hand on my belly, fingers curving protectively over the swelling. I had a _life_ inside me; a life that, somehow, I’d helped create. I couldn’t have an abortion. 

Which meant that – somehow – I had to bring this baby into the world. Obviously a conventional delivery was out of the question. I stifled a half-hysterical giggle. I had the finest doctors and scientists in the world, people who didn’t freak out at the weird and unusual. Right now it was only me who was freaking out.

 

I was in the process of psyching myself up to call Stephen when an orange-ringed gate opened across the room. I stood, stumbling away from the couch, trying to hide my sudden fear as Stephen strode through. I wasn’t ready for this conversation, wasn’t ready to address what we’d done last night, and especially not ready to bring up the consequences. 

“I’m done letting you ignore me, Tony!” he growled, a heavy scowl on his face. The Cloak billowed dramatically around his shoulders. Stephen glanced around the room and saw that we were alone. “You can’t run away from me now like you did this morning!”

Fresh panic started gnawing at my mind, sharp little teeth that hurt my head and made it hard to breathe.

“I didn’t run away –”

“You woke up before me.” He closed the distance between us. Both he and the Cloak reached for me. I took a few stumbling steps back; he stopped, eyes widening for a second, before he let his hands drop. The Cloak fluttered. “You left me alone. Tell me that’s not running away!”

I opened my mouth, ready to deny it… then slumped, defeated. I couldn’t defend that. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” I said. 

That startled him. He clearly hadn’t been expecting an apology. 

“So… can we talk about it?” he asked in a calmer tone of voice, forehead wrinkling as he lifted his eyebrows. 

“Yeah.” I owed him that much. “But we kind of have a bigger problem right now…”

“Bigger than a drunken one-night stand that I’m kind of hoping won’t only be for one night?”

Something inside me twisted. That was one fear countered – that he’d thought it had been a mistake. But how could I tell him that _I_ thought it had been a mistake? I wheeled away, waving at the ultrasound scans I’d fanned out on the table. 

“Baby pictures?” He sounded puzzled. “Look, if this is something that you and _that woman –_ ”

“It’s mine, alright?” I yelled, turning back.

“I pretty much took that as a given –”

“I mean as in...” I took a deep breath. “The scans are mine. I’m pregnant, Stephen.”

I watched as his mouth dropped. I wanted the floor to rip open and swallow me whole. 

“Say something,” I rasped. I wasn’t looking for his good opinion, but his continued silence wrung me out.

His mouth closed. His brows snapped together in a heavy frown. 

“This isn’t the kind of thing I would make up for laughs,” I snapped, frustrated. “Shuri ran the tests, then she ran ‘em again –”

Stephen turned and strode back to the gate.

“I believe you,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “But I have to check something.”

“What? Wait –”

“Don’t go anywhere. Just... hell, what do pregnant women do?”

“You’re the doctor!” I yelled. “You tell me!”

“Neurosurgeon! Just stay here, OK?”

“Please don’t go,” I blurted out. I hated that I’d just shown him a weakness, but I couldn’t help myself. It was stupid – I hadn’t wanted him here, and now I didn’t want him to leave.

“I’m coming back.” He met my eyes. “I promise.”

 

Of all the ways that meeting could have gone, two minutes of conversation and an abrupt departure wouldn’t have featured high on my list of possibilities. My head was all over the place. I couldn’t focus on a single thought for more than a few seconds, so I kept bouncing through them, again and again and again, cycling from Stephen to the baby and back. 

And now I was having to pee every fifteen minutes. 

“Tony?” Shuri’s voice sounded over the intercom. “May I come in?”

She’d tried a couple times already. Realising that I was being rude – that she was being my friend, and by pushing her away I was pushing away someone who could support me – I let her in. Like Nat, she was a neutral ear.

She pulled me into a hug. I held on tight, drawing strength from her presence. This girl – this woman who was young enough to be my daughter – had consistently proven herself mature beyond her years, and here I was, leaning on her now. 

Finally I pulled away, the sting of tears in my eyes. 

“What am I gonna do?” I croaked.

“The very first thing you are going to do is let me give you a vitamin shot,” she said. “I told you that your baby is growing at an accelerated rate, and it is taking more nutrients from your body than you are able to provide. That is why you are aching and your legs feel weak.”

“Damn. I told you I could take it, but could you maybe sugar coat it just a little bit?” I held my hand out, thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

“Sit down, Tony.” She pointed to the couch.

“Yes, ma’am.”

We sat. She unrolled a cloth, revealing a syringe full of amber liquid.

“That’s, uh, that’s a big needle.”

“You have a phobia of needles?”

“No. Doesn’t mean I like the idea of them, though.”

“You had a man-made energy source embedded in your chest, and you don’t like the idea of needles?”

I held my arm out. “Just stick me up, Shuri.”

I endured the injection, watching the liquid disappear inside my vein. It stung a little. 

“Now, a conversation with the father of your child would be a good move,” she said, her voice dry. “Have you spoken with Stephen yet?”

“I didn’t tell you it was Stephen,” I said, frowning. “How did you –”

“Oh, Tony.” She shook her head. “You think nobody realised what was happening on the ship?”

“Jesus, does everybody know?”

“Anyone with eyes, I should think. So have you spoken with him?”

“He was here a little while ago.” Misery rose up inside me. “It’s… well, it’s complicated. Last night we… alright, so last night I slept with him. It was a mistake.” If I told myself that enough times, I’d believe it. Eventually. “I ran out on him this morning.” It felt like days ago. God, I was so tired.

“Where is he now?”

“His turn to run out, I guess,” I said, shrugging. “Said he had to check something. He’s coming back,” I added. The look in her eyes made me feel as if I had to defend him. “And on top of all that, I guess we still need to talk about these stupid flying monkeys.”

She hugged me again. “Try to get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning about how to get you through this. _And_ keep Fury off your back.”

“He called already?” I asked, anxiety crawling up inside my chest.

“A few minutes before I came to see you. I told him that you are not suffering from an infection or disease picked up in space, and that you are merely hungover, but he wants to see the test data.”

“Suspicious bastard,” I growled. “What did you do?”

“Told him that it’s confidential, of course, and that I would not share it without your permission.”

I stifled a groan. Saying ‘permission denied’ was a red flag to guys like Fury. He was going to start poking and prodding until he got an answer.

“We can give him some falsified records, right?”

“That is easily achieved, if that is what you wish. But Tony, this man deals in information – do you think you can keep _this_ information secret forever?” She gestured to my belly.

“I can’t even think that far into the future right now,” I groaned. I was barely able to get my head around the whole ‘what happens right now’ issue; anything more complicated was beyond me. 

Shuri made a sympathetic noise. “I’ll send out some falsified records in the morning. It will make him think that you were sleeping and delayed your reply until you woke. And sleep,” she added, waving a stern finger at me, “is what you should be doing.”

Right. Like I was going to be able to sleep.


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Stephen's return, they discuss the magical reasons behind the pregnancy, Tony's plans, and the Undying Ones.

I lay in bed, looking at my watch for what felt like the millionth time. Gone midnight. Sleep had never seemed so far away, and my head had never felt so unsettled. I couldn’t stop thinking about Stephen.

I’d always been drawn to him, right from our first meeting out on the street, before he’d told me about Thanos. There was just something about him. Some kind of magnetism. I’d dealt with arrogant people before; I’d dealt with powerful people before. He was both of those things. But those weren’t the things that had drawn me.

He’d suffered, I knew that much. He’d saved the Earth in his own right, maybe even a couple of times, before he’d aligned himself with the Avengers. The details on that were sketchy – I knew Fury was digging, but unless Stephen decided to share with the whole class he was never going to get the full story.

His car accident, however, and the ruin of his medical career, were both common knowledge. He’d only ever been in my periphery is those days – newspaper reports, news stories – but I’d been drawn to him even then, attracted by his brilliance and his achievements. 

But the way he’d suffered had always seemed to resonate with something inside me, had always seemed to strike a chord. Plenty of superheroes (hell, pretty much all of us) had suffered in one way or another. Peter had lost his parents, and grown to be fiercely independent; Steve Rogers had been a sick, weedy kid, and he’d used that to strive harder.

Stephen’s journey, like mine, had been in reverse; he’d grown from being an entitled prick into someone who’d developed a real sense of responsibility. We were both living with the consequences of our actions, and we would always have to live with those consequences. We understood the price of arrogance.

I’d run out on him this morning because I’d panicked. I’d woken up in plenty of beds that weren’t my own before, and I’d run out plenty of times before, too. All those times, I’d just wanted to avoid causing an awkward scene.

This time, though...

“Damn it, Tony,” I muttered to myself. “Just admit it.”

“Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice echoed through the room.

“Just talking to myself,” I said hastily.

“You could talk to me. I won’t judge.”

“Aren’t you freaked out by this whole baby thing, though? “

“Gosh, no.” I heard something like pleasure in her voice. “It’ll be lovely to have a little one around the place. You need someone to care for.”

I ignored the implications of her last comment, instead focussing on the first part.

“You wanna be a grandma, F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“It will be a unique experience.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. “So what were you trying to admit?”

I let out a ragged sigh. “This is just between you and me, right?”

“Of course. I’m programmed for confidentiality.” 

“I don’t remember programming you for nosiness.”

“All part of the learning process, boss.”

Jesus. A smug AI. Just what I needed. 

“Alright,” I said. “So I’m trying to work out why I ran out on Stephen this morning.”

“And what did you decide?” 

“We’re so similar.” It was hard to get those words out, easier if I just pretended I was still talking to myself. “He knows my strengths, because we’re alike.” I sighed. “But that means he also understands my weaknesses.”

 

A gentle hand on my shoulder startled me into wakefulness. Despite my anxiety, I’d managed to grab at least a couple hours of sleep, judging by the sunlight creeping around the edges of the blinds. At least I hadn’t suffered any nightmares this time. I was still exhausted, starving again, and I needed to pee. Yet again. 

Stephen was sitting on the edge of the bed. I peered at him, bleary-eyed, until the image cleared: - the bruising around his eye, the puffiness, was looking better. Even the scabbed scratches seemed less raised. A corner of the Cloak was stroking along the back of my arm.

“You’re adorable when you sleep,” Stephen said, a gentle smile on his face. “Anyone ever told you that?” 

I scrubbed at my face, sitting up, trying to put distance between us. Even if it was only a few inches.

“Yeah, bad-asses don’t really do the whole ‘adorable’ thing,” I said. Something warm and soft spread inside my chest at his words. The Cloak slipped from his shoulders, spreading over my lap. My fingers closed on the fabric. 

“Even bad-asses have to sleep.” He hesitated, the smile fading. “I wanted to wake up next to you yesterday.”

My mouth was dry. “I gotta take a leak,” I blurted. 

Stephen finally stood and gave me space. I lurched to my feet and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. My legs felt like cheese straws again. This was getting embarrassing, and I had a nasty feeling that it was going to get a whole lot worse.

I sighed as I finally got to empty my bladder, then washed my hands and splashed cold water over my face. I had awful bed-head, so I flicked more water through my hair and styled it into quick, messy spikes. 

“I bet you’re laughing at this,” I said, looking at my belly as I braced myself against the sink. It was still little more than a gentle swell. “We’ll look back on this when you’re eighteen and laugh.”

A sudden flood of emotions swept over me, so thick and fast I couldn’t identify them all. Fierce protectiveness, fear, love, anger. 

Love? What? 

“That’s right,” I muttered. Tears made my eyes sting. “You’re already a pain in the ass, little bump, but I love you.”

Shit. I couldn’t afford to get sentimental now. I splashed more water in my face and towelled it dry. I needed to shave, but that was going to have to wait.

“You gonna stick around for more than a couple minutes this time?” I demanded as I came back into the bedroom. His eyes seemed to light up when he saw me.

“I was conducting research,” he said. Just as quickly, that light died. 

“Sure, fine, whatever.” What the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? “I’m gonna get some breakfast now. Eating for two and all that.” I tried to brush past him.

“Tony!” His hand snapped out, strong fingers clamping on my upper arm. “For God’s sake, will you _please_ stop running away from me?”

“I don’t run away from anything!” I snarled, yanking my arm away. The contact did something terrifying to my self-control – I wanted him to grab me, wrap his arms around me. Hold me close. _Fuck._

“You apologised last night for running out on me.” His face was taut, grey eyes burning. I’d walked right into that one. “But you never told me why you left.”

“It was more like a fast walk.” I tried to joke my way out of it, but Stephen wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. 

“Was it just another drunken fuck to you?” he demanded.

“We were drunk,” I snapped, “and we fucked, so yeah! Call it that if you want!”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, his hands clenching into fists before relaxing. His nostrils flared.

“And what do _you_ want to call it?” he asked.

“What?” Panic clawed its way up my throat, sudden and shocking. I hadn’t expected that question.

“You’re good at pushing people away.” His voice had softened, become silky. I was held by his eyes, unable to move, worried that my stupid legs were going to give out if I didn’t get to sit down soon. “You work hard to make sure that a person’s first impressions of you don’t change. I don’t want to hear what you think I feel; I want to hear how _you_ feel.”

_This._ This right here. This was what had really drawn me to him, had made the first sparks of conflict fly... and fanned those sparks into the red-hot flame of attraction. The way he just _got_ me, because he could be me. 

And because of that, I owed him the truth.

“Alright,” I said. Why the fuck was it so hard to talk about? “Here goes. Uh...” I swallowed.

“Tongue-tied?” Now he smiled. Just the faintest twitch of his lips, but it was there.

“More like... nervous?” I swallowed again. 

“There’s a first.” Heat danced in the grey depths of his eyes. And humour. Gently teasing humour. I always loved it when he was like this; hard, but funny, he was like a snake. Hypnotic... and he could reach out and bite me at any moment.

“The truth is that I was too drunk to remember much,” I said bluntly, deciding that it was better just to rip the Band-Aid off. “And I regret that.” His face twisted; one part pain, two parts scepticism. “No, really. I do. Because the bits I remember...”

“What? What about the bits you remember?”

“They were amazing.” Rough. Vital. Possessive. Too much urgency for finesse. “ _You_ were amazing.”

He reached out with one tentative hand. His hand trembled harder than ever, something I’d come to learn was a sign that he was particularly tired. I held rock-still as he touched me, his hand cupping the side of my face. His thumb smoothed over my cheek. His scars were rough against my skin.

The contact left me hungry for more. And that scared me. Warlords, aliens, terrorists – bring them on, but honest human contact? 

I pulled away, trying not to see the hurt in his eyes. Yeah. Guess I was running, after all.

 

I spared a minute to dress, picking sweatpants and a hoodie from the wardrobe Shuri had thoughtfully provided. Then I walked slowly to the dining hall, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Stephen, walking beside me, said nothing, but I felt his concerned gaze.

The chef, N’Bene, asked us what we wanted. I’d talked to him last night, enough to know that he was open, friendly and talkative. This morning, when faced with a guy in a weird outfit and a magic cloak that moved by itself, had a personality of its own, and kept trying to steal bananas from the fruit bowl, I learned that N’Bene was steady as a goddammed rock. He didn’t seem at all fazed.

I went for a muffin and coffee. Stephen chose tea and toast.

“What are you, British?” I asked as we picked a table right next to a window. Lots of sunshine. The gentle warmth felt good on my face.

“Yes, and I’ll slip into a deerstalker and start solving crimes, shall I?” he replied, putting on a faultless English accent. 

“Keep using that accent and you can do whatever the hell you like,” I rasped, forgetting myself.

He looked at me with half-lidded eyes. “Noted.”

“So, uh... the flying monkey problem…”

We needed to talk about the baby. We needed to talk about _us._ But _I_ needed a little time to build up a barrier first, something to construct a wall. And – in the scheme of things – extradimensional monsters invading our reality ranked way higher than me being pregnant. Even if it didn’t feel that way.

“There’s been no new attacks,” he said. “I spent some time with Fury and his scientists last night. Every time a gate is opened it creates a unique energy signature, and we were able to devise an early warning system.”

“How are we gonna stop this – what did you call it? Nameless One?”

“We must wait until he shows his hand.” His frustration was obvious, even though I could tell he was taking pains to hide it. “He’s ancient and skilled in the arcane arts, but entering our dimension weakens him. He won’t do that until he’s ready.”

“So we have to wait until he’s ready to carry out whatever ass-hat plan he’s setting in motion.”

Stephen tilted his head to one side. “Pretty much.”

“You know that’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, considering the only alternative is to take a group of sorcerers into _his_ dimension, where _we_ will be weaker, I know which option I prefer.”

“Why did he send his minions after me? I mean I know I’ve got this knack for pissing people off, it’s like a gift or something, but I don’t know this guy.”

“You spent the night at the New York Sanctum. My best guess is that the Nameless One was spying on the building and identified you as an ally.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d become a target.”

His concern was welcome. “Not your fault. Besides, I’ve kind of spent the last ten years or so with a target painted on my back, so random attacks are nothing new. Flying monkeys, now, _they’re_ new.”

His smile was strained. We both seemed to realise that we’d exhausted that topic of conversation. I stared at him, uneasy.

“So this research you were doing…” I picked at my muffin.

“Last night was a shock,” he admitted, waving a half-eaten piece of toast at me, “but it sounded familiar. I was sure that I’d read something similar before.”

“I knew it!” I said. “I _knew_ it had to be magic!”

“There’s a relic.” He looked uncomfortable. “It’s called the Swaddling Cloth. Historically, it was used by women trying to conceive. I didn’t know it was in the Sanctum – I was in the process of taking inventory when the fight with Thanos flared up.”

“Swaddling Cloth… let me guess,” I said, bitterness rising up inside me. I clearly recalled the way I’d woken up the day before. “It’s this big old white blanket with cute gold embroidery, right?”

He nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I’m guessing you were, uh, swaddled in it when you woke up?” I nodded. “It wasn’t there when I woke, and it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, locked in a cupboard with several other fabric-based relics.” He seemed uncomfortable. “When I checked, it was gone. I found it bundled up with the Cloak of Levitation.”

“What?” I gave him a startled look. “You’re saying the Cloak caused this? That it wrapped me up like a fucking _burrito?_ ”

Stephen nodded. A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. The Cloak – hearing its name – detached from Stephen’s shoulders, rolled itself into a tight ball, and slid out of sight.

“Yeah, you better run!” I growled, bending to look under the table. “I oughta set your hem on fire!” I straightened with a soft grunt of effort. “Why would it _do_ that?” 

I wanted to blame Stephen, too, but I knew this wasn’t his fault. If you’d asked him if he wanted to have a baby with his booty-call, I’m sure the answer would have been ‘hell to the no’. Anger swirled in my gut, directionless, pointless. How the fuck could I get angry at a mindless piece of cloth?

My stomach clenched. With nowhere to go, that anger was turning inward. All of this was my fault, really. If I hadn’t run to Stephen for support, I wouldn’t be here now. If I hadn’t been so weak that I couldn’t say no to him, then I wouldn’t be here now. Hell – if I’d just been sober enough to insist that Stephen wear a goddammed _condom_ – I wouldn’t be here now.

“It’s… match-making,” he said. He seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil, but I knew him well enough now to doubt that. “By using the Swaddling Cloth, we now have a physical, biological connection that neither of us can ignore.”

I laughed. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe, until I started choking, until Stephen came to my side, face creased with concern. Until the laughter turned hysterical and my eyes grew damp. 

Until Stephen put his arms around me.

 

I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to contact Shuri again. She told us to meet her in the medical suite. Three members of the Dora Milaje met us outside the guest quarters, and we followed them down, lost in our own thoughts.

Letting Stephen hold me – if only for a brief minute – had been incredible. It was what I needed and what I wanted. But I couldn’t allow it, because it made me feel vulnerable, as if he was the only person I could rely on. I’d spent most of my life relying on myself (and my fortune) so when I’d had to learn to work with the other Avengers, it had been hard. And our truce had only lasted as long as it took the Sokovia Accords to come into effect.

Thanos’s rise to power had forced us to put those days behind us. Work together or die had been a bleak choice, but we’d taken it because that’s all there’d been. And in the end, it hadn’t been enough. 

The last few Avengers – and the last Guardian of the Galaxy – had also learned to work together. That had been the hardest lesson of all. It hadn’t just been _our_ lives at stake. Not just a city, or a country. It was half the Universe. That kind of guilt was the biggest motivator any of us had ever experienced. 

But working with Stephen, now... when the only thing at stake was one life? The kid inside me? For better or worse I was that baby’s home, for as long as it took him or her to come to term (which, judging from the way my bump had grown, probably wouldn’t be more than a couple days). My baby only had me. I had to be strong enough, which meant I couldn’t rely on anyone else.

But Christ, I wanted to.

 

We started with another ultrasound. I was rapidly coming to hate those. The cold feel of the gel, the way Shuri pressed the probe against my belly – I didn’t just feel exposed, I _was_ exposed. As if the consequences of my mistake were right there for everyone to see. And every time glanced at Stephen’s face, his eyes were on my bump. The Cloak hung limp on Stephen’s shoulders, just a regular garment – apart from the occasional sad little flick.

I didn’t have the energy to keep hold of my self-anger. I couldn’t even stay angry at the Cloak anymore. This thing, this magical relic, had used another relic to fuck around with the laws of nature and here I was, a guy pregnant with a baby that was growing faster than my body could handle.

There’d been no malice behind that action. I was coming the see the Cloak as an unruly teenager; brave to the point of recklessness, overly-protective of the people it had chosen to be its family. It had chosen Stephen first… and now it had chosen me. It had used the only method it knew to keep us together. If I wasn’t still so freaked out by the whole thing, I might have thought it was sweet.

I let my fingers snag against the cloth when no-one was looking, letting the pad of my thumb stroke briefly over the fabric. Just a little gesture, but enough to let the Cloak know that I couldn’t stay mad at it. It shivered. When Stephen looked back, reacting to the tiny movement, my hand was back where it should be.

Shuri also wanted to examine my moobs again, to see if there’d been any additional growth overnight. They didn’t look any different to me, which was a blessing, and I hoped like hell they wouldn’t get any bigger. I didn’t want her anywhere near them – and I told her so, loudly and in increasingly smaller words – but she insisted, and I learned that an angry Wakandan woman was way scarier than most of the warlords I’d gone up against. In the end I just stopped arguing.

“You’re staring,” I whispered to Stephen when she was out of earshot.

“I’m not going to apologise.”   
“I’m not a freak show!”

“That’s not why I’m staring.” 

“What...?” Then I met his eyes, and I understood.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” he growled, keeping his voice low so that Shuri couldn’t hear.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.” His hand ghosted over my shoulder, slender fingers lightly brushing the swell of one newly-grown breast. I shivered. “You’re a beautiful contradiction. Hard muscle. Soft flesh.” His hand slid lower, gently curving over my bump. “Protecting the life inside you. The life we made.”

The Cloak strained toward me. I felt the light touch of fabric gliding over my ribs, avoiding the gel on my belly.

I pulled away, confused and aroused at the same time. I wanted Stephen’s touch. Moobs or milk-giving breasts, I didn’t know, but I still wanted him to touch them. I felt... dirty wasn’t quite the right word, but guilty came close. As if I shouldn’t want him because I was pregnant. As if this was a punishment, a consequence of unprotected sex. A magical malady. I mistake I had to live with.

I didn’t miss the way his face tightened as I pulled back. I couldn’t deal with his hurt right now. 

“Right,” Shuri said when she returned. Stephen took a step back, putting more space between us. His face was a mask, only a hint of volcanic feelings showing in his eyes. The Cloak twisted, then sagged, limp. “At the current rate of growth, I would say your baby will reach full term the day after tomorrow. Of course, you do not possess the necessary equipment to give birth naturally, so I will need to perform a Caesarean section.”

It was the only logical option. “Talk me through the procedure.”

“It can take up to an hour, and is usually performed under a spinal block –”

“Wait, I gotta be awake for this?” My dismay was obvious, but Shuri was unsympathetic. 

“Women are awake for natural labour. And I would like to refer you back to the conversation we had last night about your ARC reactor.” 

“Alright, alright.” I held up both hands. “Shout out to all the women, you’re goddesses. I am but a humble man so excuse me if I freak out at the idea of someone cutting me open while I’m still awake.”

Shuri’s expression softened. “I can perform the procedure under general anaesthesia, if you’d prefer.”

“No, no, you’ve stung my manly pride. Just stick a big old needle in my spine. I want to be our awake to see my child brought into the world.”

Pain flashed across Stephen’s face. “ _Our_ child.”

The ramifications of that statement – the whole ‘what happens after the birth’ thing – were just too damned big to get my head around right now.

“So, uh,” I swallowed hard, blinking against the suspicious moisture in my eyes, “when the baby’s... born... is my...?” God, just say the word. “Will the womb go away?”

“I believe so, yes.” Shuri’s tone was sombre. “My understanding of the magic is that it allows pregnancy. When the pregnancy reaches term and your baby is delivered, your uterus will be reabsorbed.” She glanced at Stephen. “Yes?”

He nodded. 

“And what about...” I waved both hands at my chest.

“I do not believe that you will produce any milk.” She almost sounded disappointed. “The swelling appears to be the result of a surge in hormones. After the birth, they will return to normal.”

I stifled a sigh of relief. I’d struggled – was still struggling – to get my head around the idea that I was expecting. I didn’t think I’d do too well if I’d been told I had to keep all my new hardware.

“One last question,” I said. “This kid is growing like bamboo right now. What about when it’s out? Is it going full-on _Twilight?_ ”

Shuri’s lips twitched. “Those films were terrible.”

I shrugged. “Give me a TV and some popcorn, I’ll watch anything.”

“I can answer that question,” Stephen said. “I scoured the historical records for mention of the Swaddling Cloth. All references seem to indicate that, once delivered, the child grows at a normal rate.”

I didn’t bother to hide my relief this time. If my kid grew up too quick, reached adulthood too quick... would they die too quick?

“Good,” I said. “I’m all for bending the laws of nature, but some things you shouldn’t rush.”

“Would you like to know the gender?” Shuri asked.

“Uh… yeah? I mean yes.” I hadn’t even thought about that, mostly because I’d been too busy freaking out. More than seeing the physiological changes, knowing the gender would make the baby real. Incontrovertible. I already loved it, but more as a concept than an actuality.

I was so massively unprepared to be a parent.

“Or we could wait until the birth,” Stephen suggested.

“If I could make a suggestion,” Shuri said, “I would say that you need to spend time readying yourselves. You are welcome to stay in Wakanda for as long as you wish, but you will need equipment – clothes, diapers, formula, toys...”

I stared at Stephen, appalled. I was so not ready for this. By the look of horror in his own eyes, neither was he. 

Shuri laughed. “I will arrange for you to have the things you need.”

“Thank you,” I said, as earnestly I could. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“Consider it a gift.” She smiled. “Now may I please tell you the gender?”

I shared a look with Stephen. He nodded.

“You’re going to have a baby girl,” Shuri said, beaming. “Congratulations to you both.”

A girl. A little girl. My God. Tantrums, teenage angst, sneaking out at night to go save the world? Yup, I was doomed. 

Then I realised that she’d congratulated me. _Us_. Stephen _and_ me. He was smiling at me now, a light in his eyes, something like... pride? 

I smiled back, the movement tentative, hesitant. Acknowledging that we’d made something incredible.


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen grow closer; Shuri gifts them an apartment in Wakanda, complete with a nursery.

Shuri gave me another vitamin shot, made me down an only-vaguely disgusting nutrient shake, and left to go and arrange everything I’d need. I was damned lucky to count the Wakandan princess as my friend. She was smart, funny, and had a massive heart. If I hadn’t come here, I’d probably still be stuck in a S.H.I.E.L.D compound somewhere, or farmed out to another hotel. I’d be trying to take a more active role against the Undying Ones, all while dealing with my guilt over the way things had ended with Pepper, and anxious that I’d sabotaged Peter’s relationship with his aunt.

And trying to figure out why the hell I felt like crap. Not knowing the truth. Yeah, even though I felt as if I’d been dealt a terrible hand, the reality was that I’d been luckier than I had any right to expect. I was still hurting over Pepper, still guilty about Peter, but I was finally coming to realise that I had friends. People who liked me for _me,_ not the hero in the suit, not the millionaire, not the businessman. Just me.

Stephen was – or at least had been – one of those friends. I had no idea where we were now. His friendship had got me through a dark time on the ship, but throwing sex into the equation had complicated everything all to hell. He’d known I was reeling from that encounter with Pepper, and he’d still slept with me. Still opened himself up to be hurt. I knew it took two to tango, but I’d felt so fucking weak – needed the comfort he’d offered so bad – that I hadn’t resisted.

The Dora Milaje escorted us back to the guest quarters. I hadn’t done anything more strenuous than lie on a hospital gurney, but I was exhausted.

“We need to talk about how we deal with things after the birth,” Stephen said. The Cloak detached from his shoulders and hung itself on a hook, where it turned to face the wall. Yeah, buddy, you’re still in the sin bin. “You’re the most famous man in the world. Everyone’s going to want to know where and how you got a baby.”

I bit back a savage denial. I wasn’t ready to share her with anyone else yet, especially not the media. But he was right. I did need to consider how I was going to handle this. 

“How’s this for a Tweet?” I said. “Here’s my kid, I made her with magic?”

“I’m not anxious for the world to discover the existence of magic.”

“So aliens are fine, but Hogwarts is banned?”

“It’s not as simple as that. Look what has already been accomplished through the misuse of alien technology. If magical ability falls into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic.”

He had a point there, though I didn’t want to admit that he was right. 

“I could say I’ve adopted,” I said cautiously.

“ _We’ve_ adopted.”

“There is no we.” I turned my back on him, one hand on my hip, digging the fingers of my other hand into my temples. My head was pounding.

“There was a _we_ when we created our daughter!”

I turned back to face him. His eyes were flashing, tension apparent in the set of his jaw. 

“I didn’t exactly set out to get pregnant when we had sex!” I felt queasy. Black spots were starting to speckle across my vision. Maybe I should sit down….

“I know that! But I... well, it’s just...we have something.” He sounded awkward, uncomfortable. “I mean we _could_ have something....” 

“You can’t even kiss me unless you’re drunk.” I don’t know what made me say that – I didn’t even want to talk about this – but given that I’d confessed it to Nat, too, I guess it must have been playing on my over-wrought mind.

He was saying something, but his voice was starting to fade. My legs felt like rubber, knees trembling with the effort of holding me up. I took a couple of faltering steps toward the couch and stumbled.

I was falling. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything, but I just had the presence of mind to cover my bump with both arms. 

 

When I woke I was stretched out on my bed, rather than a hospital gurney. That was a good sign. 

Stephen was lying beside me, stripped down to his pants and a loose linen shirt. The Cloak had draped itself over the both of us, and as I noticed it, it reached up to gently stroke my face with the corner of the collar. I scowled, then sighed.

My eyes hurt. I was still exhausted, but I no longer felt nauseous or dizzy. I wanted to just close my eyes and sleep. Passing out didn’t exactly count as rest.

It didn’t escape my attention that, once again, I’d woken up next to Stephen. If I was the kind of person who believed in fate or destiny, I might think that something was trying to force us together. I gave the Cloak a suspicious look; it rolled away, flitting off the bed, returning to hang on the hook.

We lived in a universe filled with magic as well as technology. I was in the family way because the Cloak of Levitation had decided that, yes, we _should_ be together. Not exactly fate, but I guessed it was the next best thing.

But that was precisely what I couldn’t allow. Pepper had taught me that loving someone only led to pain. 

And why the fuck was I thinking about Stephen and love in the same thought?

The sorcerer’s eyes slowly opened. I’d missed my chance to sneak out. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

“You’re not running this time,” he said. 

His low, deep voice rolled over me, sinking into my bones. We could wake up this way every day, only he’d be under the blanket with me. Legs tangled together. His heat seeping into me from every place our bodies touched...

“Don’t stop looking at me like that.” His voice was hoarse. “Just like that.”

“Like what?” My own voice was a whisper. 

“Like I’m the only person you want to look at.” His hair was sleep-ruffled, eyes half-lidded and smoky grey. 

“Right now, you _are_ the only person I want to look at.”

A low, started groan escaped his lips. He leaned forward and I did too, drawn by his magnetism. His kiss was gentle and I felt his restraint, felt the way his trembling hand curved around the back of my neck. It was enough to send sparks shooting straight through me. I deepened the kiss, mindless to the consequences, desperate to recapture a little of what I recalled from the night we’d spent together. 

When we finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

“I’m not drunk now,” he murmured, tossing my earlier words back at me. “That night changed everything, Tony.”

“Everything,” I agreed, but then shrugged, one–shouldered. We were still so close together. “And nothing. I told you it was rebound sex.”

He flinched but didn’t move back. “And I told you that I didn’t care. I still don’t care.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes were grey pools, drawing me in. I wanted to sink inside them. “I mean, shit, I’ve already hurt you. You _should_ care about that.”

“If you were just rebounding, you wouldn’t have let me kiss you again.”

I was pretty sure his logic was flawed, but it was hard to feel any concern because I wanted him to keep kissing –

Something moved inside me.

I pulled further back. “What the...”

“Are you OK?” His hand moved from the back of my head to my shoulder, fingers tightening. 

Another movement, slow and gentle but none the less out of place.

“This feels really weird...” I stared into his eyes. 

“Are you in pain?”

“No. It’s like... when you run your tongue along the inside of your cheek?” I said slowly, focussing on the sensation. 

He drew a sharp breath. “She’s stretching.”

“How do I know that’s not a kick?”

“A kick might cause discomfort. A gentle stretch shouldn’t.” He looked down at the bump, hand outstretched, hovering. “May I...?”

I hesitated. So yeah, we’d just been kissing. I wanted to do more of that, even though I knew it was a terrible idea. But letting him touch the bump felt like a more intimate act.

I wanted that, too.

“Alright.”

I leaned back, awkward, self-conscious. Unzipped my jacket. Stephen laid his palm over the bump. 

It felt... the warmth of his hand was amazing, even through my tank top. That warmth spread through my whole body, settling somewhere behind my ribs. _Protection. Comfort. Security._ All things I’d had to rely on to give myself for so long, all the things I’d tried to give to Pepper. All the things Thanos had taken away from me. 

Stephen nudged the tank up so that he could touch me skin on skin. The scars on his fingers were a gentle roughness. I wanted him to pull me closer. I wanted his arms around me, his face nuzzling against mine –

I pushed his hand away, terrified by the sudden rush of emotions. I could _not_ allow this to happen. I could _not_ allow myself to want this. I had to get up, get going...

“Tony.” Stephen’s voice was ragged. 

When I pushed my legs over the side of the bed, they felt like jelly. When I tried to put weight on them they buckled, sending me tumbling. The Cloak streaked away from its hook, but I landed before it could get to me. The impact on my knees sent pain rippling up my thighs. The Cloak curled around one arm. 

“Tony!”

Stephen rolled over the bed and crouched down by my side, hands on my arms as he tried to help me rise.

“I can manage!” I grunted, slapping his hands away and shaking the Cloak off. I struggled to get a foot under me. My limbs felt awkward, slow to respond.

“Listen to me.” He grabbed my shoulders, the raw power in that grey stare making it impossible to look away. I sank back down to my knees, the pain forgotten. “You’re making a baby. You’re cramming something that takes nine months into four days. Shuri’s already told you that kind of energy outlay is taking a toll on your body.”

“What?” My thoughts felt slow and sluggish, exhaustion rolling across me again. My joints ached.

He dropped from a crouch into a kneel, his grip on my shoulders relaxing. His thumbs gently smoothed over my collarbones. It felt good.

“That’s why you collapsed earlier,” he explained. “The baby’s draining your energy to fuel her rapid growth. I need to talk to Shuri, but I’d say we need to step up the shots and nutrient shakes.”

Oh. OK. That made sense. But all I could fix on right now was an image of him picking me up after I’d collapsed. Whether he decided to stay to keep an eye on me, or because he wanted to spend time in my company, the end result had been the same: - he’d fallen asleep beside me. He’d been up all night researching that damned Swaddling Cloth, was exhausted himself, and he’d fallen asleep. In all the baby madness, I’d lost sight of that.

“Thank you,” I rasped. “You know, for... being here. And all that.” Wow, go me with all the words. I was right up there with the POTUS. 

“Like it or not, we’re connected now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I reached up with trembling arms, dismayed when my hands wouldn’t do more than make claws. “Uh... help a guy up?”

 

I asked Shuri if she could find me a wheelchair. It hurt my manly pride to ask (in fact it well and truly fucked my manly pride), but I was beginning to learn that pride was bullshit: - pregnant women had to go through all these examinations, had to endure months of feeling crap, so why was I complaining? All I had to put up with was a couple of days.

A couple of days in which I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker, but still.

The wheelchair was sleek, lightweight, and tricked out. Shuri had arranged for it to be delivered to the dining hall, where I had space to get comfortable with it.

“I feel like Professor X,” I said, guiding the chair around the hall. The motorised hum was barely audible. Stephen was sitting on one of the dining chairs, watching me. “Only, you know, with better hair.’

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said, sombre. The Cloak used the corners of its collar to cover his mouth. He swiped it away, impatient.

“What?” I touched a hand to my head. My hair felt coarse. “Ah, shit! Can you get me a mirror?”

Stephen created a small gate, reached through, and withdrew the small, round mirror on a stand that I’d seen in my bathroom. I almost snatched it out of his hand.

When I saw my reflection, dismay bubbled up on my throat. It was thinning.

“OK, alright, so I’m going bald,” I babbled, tugging uselessly at one of the short strands. “It’s no big deal, I can totally rock the look –”

“Calm down,” Stephen interrupted. I stared at him. It occurred to me that I must have looked like this – hair starting to fall out – and he’d _still_ kissed me. I didn’t want to examine what that meant. “This is only temporary. I believe that if we increase the vitamin and nutrient replacements your hair will return to normal.”

“Normal,” I said, a creeping sense of horror stealing over me. “I’m gonna have a baby! There’s nothing normal about that!”

“There’s nothing normal about putting on a suit made of nanobots,” he said, calm as a fucking rock in the face of my rising hysteria. “But you do that all the time. There’s nothing normal about magic. But _I_ do that all the time.”

“How are you not freaking out about this? I feel like I’m –” I stopped, shook my head. I’d been about to say “like I’m falling apart”, but I stopped myself just in time. I didn’t want him or anyone to know that. 

“Like what?” That look was back in his eyes, that intensity I was becoming familiar with. 

“It doesn’t matter. I just wanna know how the fuck you’re keeping it all together.”

He tilted his head to the side as if considering.

“It was a shock,” he admitted, “at first. This is unusual, even by my standards. But I’m going to be a parent, Tony. And the other parent is a man who... well, you can be a complete and utter asshole, but still worthy of respect.”

I stared at him, speechless. Respect. What had I done to earn that? Stephen was a sorcerer; he’d learned his art, dedicated his life to the craft, and had become the undisputed master of the arcane. Me? I was just some stupid rich kid who happened to be good at mechanics.

He crouched down beside my wheelchair, bracing himself on the arm. 

“You don’t believe me.” His eyes had softened, eyebrows dipping in a frown. “But what part don’t you believe? That I respect you... or that you’re worthy of that respect?”

I cleared my throat. “Take your pick.”

“Any man can put on your suit and start a fight.” His fingertips grazed my arm, making me shiver. “But you’re the only person who can become Iron Man.”

 

We moved into the atrium, where I could enjoy the natural sunlight and the gentle sound of water. The Cloak fussed and hovered until I let it settle over my lap. 

Stephen and I didn’t talk much. After just a few minutes the atmosphere – and his comforting presence – made it easy to fall into a light doze. When Shuri arrived, I heard them discussing the vitamin shots and meal replacement shakes, and tried a little harder to fall asleep.

I had no idea how long I’d been under – minutes, maybe – when the start of a nightmare blossomed in my head. I pushed it away, clawing my way up through the layers of sleep, glad that it was already dissipating when my eyes snapped open. The little that I could recall involved Stephen, flying monkeys, and a baby girl. 

I was glad I couldn’t remember anything more.

“Are you OK?” Stephen asked, studying my face. I was sweating, breathing too hard. 

“Yeah,” I grunted. “Never better.” 

The Cloak rose from my lap, curling around my shoulders. The feeling of security that settled over me was so deeply profound that I felt my throat close up. I ran my fingers over the fabric, feeling the gentle shiver, getting to know the way the raised embroidery felt.

“I have had you moved to a suite in an adjoining tower,” Shuri said. “A complete apartment. Master bedroom, _en suite_ bathroom, lounge area, open plan kitchen. The spare room has been converted into a nursery.”

“Thank you,” I rasped, trying to get my turbulent emotions under control. I kept my eyes fixed on the Cloak; if I looked at her, or at Stephen, I’d start bawling. I didn’t have much pride left, but I clung to the scraps. “That, uh, that seems real quick.”

“My mother helped,” she admitted. “T’Challa and I have disappointed her by not marrying and producing grandchildren yet. I believe you have become a substitute son in her eyes.” That made me look up; I smiled, pleasure quickly helping me to centre myself.

She turned an impish smile on Stephen. “She is particularly looking forward to meeting _you._ ”

“It would be an honour to meet the Queen Mother,” he said, briefly nodding. 

I’d spent time talking with Ramonda during my last stay in Wakanda. She was wise, with a steady temper and decades of experience keeping her people together through all kinds of conflicts that had never before been common knowledge in the Western world. Shuri had drawn on that experience during her brother’s absence in the Decimation.

As I’d got to know her, I’d learned that Ramonda also had a great sense of humour, loved classical music, hated green tea and would wade through pits of fire for French fries. Classy and independent, she would make an excellent grandmother. Given that F.R.I.D.A.Y had already volunteered to take the first grandma spot, I thought my kid was going to have a couple of interesting role models. 

It was just a shame she’d also have a fuck-up like me as a parent.

“You’re eighteen,” I said to Shuri. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Why would you want kids now?”

“If you could explain that to my mother…” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “She is trying to find a wife for my brother. If I’m not careful, she will have me married off before I know what has happened.”

“You seeing anyone?” I asked.

Beside me, Stephen stiffened.

“No.” Her sigh was heart-felt. “Boys my age are intimidated by my royal status and my IQ. And that is if my duties even give me time for those kinds of social interactions.”

I felt for the kid. Peter had only recently shouldered the burden of responsibility, was only just starting to understand what it meant. But Shuri had been born into a world of expectations and duties. 

“Listen to me,” I said, leaning forward. “Dating’s a mug’s game. You’re too smart to let yourself fall into that trap. You open yourself up to someone, they’re only gonna hurt you.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to Stephen before returning to me. 

“I believe that love exists,” she said. “Real love. But I also believe that it requires hard work. Like a delicate plant, it must be watered, tended, trimmed when necessary. But with enough care and attention it will blossom with the most beautiful flowers.”

Now _that_ was a speech. I felt my throat close up again.

“You seem pretty sure of that,” Stephen said. His voice was rough, a muscle clenching in his jaw. 

“My parents have always provided me with an excellent example. If it will be, it will be… but I am in no hurry to rush it along.” She clasped her hands together. “Now, if you could both follow me down to the medical suite, I need to talk about turning Tony into a pincushion.” She looked at me with a critical eye. “He looks terrible.” 

 

This time I had to have three different injections, and I’d need them twice more today – three injections, three times a day until the baby was born, and maybe for a day or two after until my body stopped ravaging itself for resources.

“I am sorry about these meal replacement shakes,” Shuri said, watching in sympathy as I downed the nutrient-rich liquid. “I’ve added flavouring so it’s at least palatable, but it is not a steak.”

“I spent a couple months drinking chlorophyll smoothies,” I said. “Anything that doesn’t taste like grass is a bonus. “

“I wanted to talk to you about that.” Her eyes lit up. “You created a new element to power your ARC reactor a number of years ago. And now your suit is made from nanites.”

“You said something about a nursery,” Stephen interrupted, his voice stilted and stiff.

Shuri looked momentarily surprised by the change in topic, but she made no comment. I gave him a sideways look.

“Indeed. If you follow me, I will show you.” 

 

We crossed an enclosed bridge from one tower to the next. The top floor of this building was constructed on similar lines; this time, the atrium had been built with white marble rather than orange, but it was still just as warm, light and bright as the previous one had been.

The living quarters were pretty much what I’d expected, based on what I’d seen so far – clean, sleek lines combined with traditional Wakandan accents. High-tech everything. And the nursery…

“Oh, my God,” I said, stunned, wheeling the chair across the room. “Shuri, this is incredible!”

The windows let sunlight stream into the room, highlighting warm yellow walls, a beautiful wooden crib, a mobile hanging from the ceiling… fluffy toys… stacks of diapers… 

It was too much. Her generosity was more than I deserved. I swallowed, kept swallowing, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat; it wasn’t going, and now my eyes were burning. I covered them, unable to look, unable to reveal my weakness.

Stephen’s hand gently closed over my shoulder. The Cloak, still curled around my shoulders, moved around to press against my chest.

“Thank you, Shuri.” Stephen’s voice had roughened, but at least it gave me some precious time to get my shit together. “I appreciate your generosity. I would have brought Tony back to Kamar-Taj, but I can’t guarantee his safety there in light of the current situation.”

“You are both welcome here for as long as you need. There is no safer place in the world.”


	16. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony handles Stephen's jealousy. They discuss a name for the baby. They row about Stephen's involvement in her upbringing.

I woke from a half-hour power nap, the Cloak tucked around me. Stephen had also taken the opportunity to catch some sleep; he’d dozed off in a chair near my bed, one long leg crossed over the other, arms folded and head nodding against his chest. I didn’t want to disturb him, but if I didn’t wake him soon he’d get a crick in his neck. He was cranky enough as it was.

“You’re still not quite forgiven,” I whispered to the Cloak. Cranky or not, I really _didn’t_ want to disturb Stephen.

The Cloak rippled, a corner of the collar touching the side of my face. 

“Alright, alright. Totally forgiven.”

The Cloak tucked itself more tightly around me. I smiled.

Stephen had spent the whole morning with me, and I appreciated that – he should be off working with S.H.I.E.L.D, tracking down the Undying Ones, even though no one could really act until they popped out through another dimensional gate. Instead he was with me. 

I touched my bump. With _us,_ I corrected. Almost as if we were a proper family. Although, given my past, I guess I had no idea what a proper family looked like. My parents had been murdered when I’d been a kid, and I’d been spent the rest of my childhood travelling between boarding schools, nannies, and college. 

Even when they’d been alive, they’d been absent. To my father, particularly, I’d been a distraction. A hindrance. I guess I’d just got used to that absence… until, with Pepper, _I’d_ been the absent one. 

I’d only recently come to learn that my father had, in fact, been proud of me, and while it had been incredible to see that video a couple of years ago, it made me furious: - furious that he hadn’t been able to say any of this to me when he’d been alive. I’d been a lost little kid who’d had to learn how to become an independent adult, but had still ended up getting lost along the way.

That was why I wanted to help Peter, why I was so drawn to Stephen. Because I recognised aspects of myself in both of them. Peter was the kid I’d been; May loved him, and she did her best, but he’d lost his parents and his uncle. He was still trying to understand his place in the world. Stephen represented the journey I’d taken since taking up the mantle of Iron Man – rich, arrogant, entitled, humbled by injury. Learning how to be a decent human being.

I wasn’t sure I’d finished that journey yet. I might never be finished.

 

Stephen woke as soon as I sat up; his eyes flew open, that brilliant grey gaze pinning me in place. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, before I could speak.

“Uh...” I took stock. “Better, thanks. You?”

“Me?” 

He seemed taken aback that I would ask. I felt like a shit that I hadn’t asked earlier; he’d come back to Earth, and almost immediately got sucked into another battle and a magical disaster. 

That night we’d spent together, the row we’d had before our emotions ran too high and we’d had sex, he’d said that everything always had to be about me. The words had been said in anger, and I was pretty sure he regretted them, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t true.

“Yeah, you.” I was selfish. That was part of _my_ journey, to acknowledge that, to work on it. Make myself a better person. “You’ve been running around after me as if my ass was on fire. You haven’t slept much and all I’ve seen you eat so far has been toast.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling again. I was coming to love it when he smiled like that.

“Most people would say Tony Stark never thought about anyone other than himself.”

“You pretty much said the same thing, the other night. And that’s a _great_ way of not answering the question, by the way, real top notch evasion there.”

The smile widened. “To answer your question, then, I’m well. Thank you. I don’t sleep much anymore, anyway, not since the accident.”

“You still need to eat.”

“Isn’t it time you had another shake?”

Yes. Damn it. “Pretty sure I hate those things already,” I said. “So, uh… you seemed kinda, I don’t know, a bit off with Shuri earlier on?” ‘Off’ was putting it mildly – he’d been short with her a couple of times, and I had to understand why. The Wakandan princess had been nothing but kind to me since I’d arrived. 

His smile vanished, a guarded look crossing his eyes. I wanted the smile back and cursed myself for an idiot.

“I’m ‘a bit off’ with everyone.”

“You’ve been pretty damned nice to me.”

A dark, brooding light entered his eyes. 

“She’s perfect for you, Tony.” His voice came out as a rough growl, sending a shiver down my spine. “Potts was a terrible choice, but Shuri? A beautiful princess who could talk to you for hours about technology?”

“Are you _jealous?_ ” I demanded, incredulous. I tried not to react over his comment about Pepper; _I_ hadn’t thought she’d been a terrible choice – in fact I’d spent a long time thinking she was a _great_ choice – but her reaction after the Decimation… she’d let her fear turn to hate. I didn’t blame her for that, but it had destroyed every good thing we’d ever had.

“Only a fool wouldn’t be jealous!”

We stared at each other. He was breathing hard, eyes boring into mine. I couldn’t look away.

“Listen to me,” I said, leaning toward him. “I know I’ve got a reputation but she’s eighteen years old, Stephen. I know she’s a princess. I know she’s a genius and I’m kinda scared that she’s brighter than me. But in my head,” I tapped my forehead, “she’s a kid.” 

Why was I telling him this? I should be pushing him away. I should be making him believe I was attracted to Shuri. She _was_ attractive, there was no doubt about that, but I’d really never considered her in that way. 

Stephen was still frowning with suspicion. He didn’t believe me.

“I guess…” I rubbed the back of my head. “I guess I kind of see her as a daughter, the way Petey’s kind of become like a son. Someone I should mentor.” I shrugged, awkward. “Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe they’re mentoring me. God knows they’re more mature than I’ll ever be.”

Stephen’s expression finally softened, the hard lines disappearing. I relaxed a little.

“It’s hard not to be jealous of her,” he admitted, sitting forward in the chair, running his long fingers through his bangs to set them in place. “I told you earlier that we’ve got something, if you could just let yourself feel instead of trying to stay numb all the time. There’s something between us –”

“Yeah,” I interrupted. “A baby.”

My heart was racing, and I was beginning to feel light-headed; I’d stayed numb for so long because it was easier than feeling, easier than being in pain. What I was feeling now – this constant up and down – was terrifying. And it was exhausting.

“I don’t mean her.” His voice had dropped, becoming low, impassioned. “I wasn’t joking when I said I respected you.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” I was struggling to keep some metaphorical space between us. I wanted to climb into his lap and kiss him until his hair was a mess again. For my own sanity, and for the sake of my daughter, I had to stop him getting so close. 

“We’re a little beyond that point, don’t you think?”

“Stephen, I....” I fumbled for something, anything, to hold him off with, when all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him. “How can you want me? I mean, right now? I feel like a goddamned freak. My hair’s thin, my gums hurt and my fucking ankles are swollen all the time –”

“Stop,” he ground out. “I know you’re trying to push me away, because I know _you!_ ”

“Then you know why I can’t let this happen.” I was sweating, dizzy. I couldn’t sit down because I was already sitting down.

“I know that you’re afraid.” His voice softened. “I won’t insult you by saying that I’ll never hurt you. But I promise that I will care for you.”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me!” Anger flared along my veins, even as heat warmed my chest. 

“Aside from the obvious,” and he arched one fine eyebrow, “caring is about more than looking after someone.”

“We had sex once,” I said. Desperation crawled through my system, the sheer terror that I was fighting a losing battle. “One time! How the fuck can you care for someone after one time?”

“Because I cared about you before we had sex.”

The statement was quietly delivered. But it still had enough force to make me gasp.

“I’ve fought by your side,” he said into my stunned silence. “Your jokes cover up the way you feel. You’ve got a shell around you that’s got nothing to do with the Iron Man suit, and you work to maintain that shell. It took me a while to realise that, but when I did it was easier to look beneath the surface and see the man you truly are.”

“Stop it,” I whispered. It was too much. I couldn’t hear this.

“Alright.” His tone had cooled, and he looked at me through narrowed eyes. “I appreciate that now is perhaps not the best time to talk about this. But I’m not giving up.”

I’d hurt him. By pushing him away – by throwing whatever he was offering back into his face – I’d hurt him. Go, me.

“For the sake of the baby?”

“Not just for her sake. If you weren’t carrying my child, we would still be having this conversation. I won’t – I _can’t_ – let this just be a rebound.”

 

Stephen headed into the kitchen to fix another shake and, hopefully, something for himself. I missed N’Bene and his cooking, and thought longingly of all the food I’d gobbled down last night – God, I’d eaten so much. Knowing that my body had made me eat so much because it was trying to fuel the baby’s growth didn’t make me feel any less guilty for binge-eating. I hadn’t eaten a single healthy thing.

I felt strong enough to walk into the bathroom unaided. Completely unaware of how much time had passed, I checked the clock, surprised to find that it was early afternoon. The hours were starting to take on a kind of dreamy quality. 

There was a whole world outside Wakanda, people still getting used to having their loved ones returned after the Decimation, people trying to come to terms with the knowledge that those lost in the aftermath could never be returned. I should be out there with them, somehow trying to help them, even if all that meant was being the public face that they could hate.

Then there was this whole business with the Undying Ones. I should be back with Fury and Natasha and the others, working on a plan, or at the very least cracking terrible Wizard of Oz jokes. I should be checking on Petey, regardless of the fact that May would probably skin me if she saw me again.

But I wasn’t doing any of those things. I’d never felt so far removed from the real world. I couldn’t see beyond my own immediate problems; granted, a man becoming pregnant through the use of magic was a pretty goddamned big problem, but on a global scale it was nothing more than a speck. 

I stripped and stared at my reflection in the mirror, turning sideways to get a look at my profile. The bump was getting bigger. The day after tomorrow, Shuri said, and then my daughter would be born.

The idea of a C-section scared me. Yeah, I’d spent years with an ARC reactor embedded in my chest, hooked up to my nervous system... but putting something in was a world away from taking something out. Something that I’d created, was still creating.  
That Stephen had created. 

“What the fuck am I going to do, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” I asked as I stepped carefully into the shower. The hot water was perfection: - I could stay here forever, safe, cocooned from the rest of the world. 

“About what, boss?”

“About the baby. Stephen. My goddamned life.”

“Well, that’s simple. Tell Doctor Strange that you love him. Raise your child together. Live a long and happy life.”

“Say _what_ now?”

“It’s apparent from my observations, and from analysis of your past interactions, that he’s in love with you. And you’re in love him. Admitting your feelings so that you can be happy is something that humans do, yes?”

I was feeling light-headed again. I braced myself with both hands against the wall. My eyes closed, water dripping off my face.

“I think we need to work on your algorithms,” I said. “What you’re saying about Stephen... that can’t be true.” I’d told Pepper that I still loved her. I’d believed that. I’d _believed_ that.

But just because I believed something, that didn’t make it true. If I still loved her, I wouldn’t have slept with Stephen. I wouldn’t have run to him as soon as the pain grew too much to bear by myself. I’d have gone back to my hotel room, got blind drunk, and stayed there. Two out of three just didn’t cut it. 

“Would you like me to detail your physiological responses to each other’s presence?” she asked.

“You can’t boil love down to a set of numbers!” I yelled.

“I apologise if I have given offense.” She didn’t sound at all apologetic. 

“I’m not offended. I’m...” Christ, I couldn’t even articulate how I felt right now. “I think maybe I’m going crazy.”

“Would you like me to summon Stephen?”

“No!” Bad enough that he’d seen me stretched out with the bump on full display, that he’d touched it. I didn’t want him to see me naked in the shower.

Which was completely crazy, because he’d already seen me naked and touched pretty much every part of me. 

Even… maybe… the scarred parts inside.

 

The brief spell of energy began to wane as I came out of the shower, enough so that after I’d dressed in loose sweat pants and a tank, I took to the wheelchair again.

The Cloak pretty much ambushed me as soon as I left the bedroom, hovering around me like an anxious puppy. 

“Personal space, dude, personal space.” 

The Cloak sagged, shoulders slumping. Great. I’d made it sad. I reached out and tweaked the fabric.

“Go on,” I said. “Go play with a blanket or something.”

It zipped away. When I emerged into the lounge, the Cloak had draped itself over the back of the couch. I smiled and rolled into the dining area.

Stephen was waiting for me with another shake and the next round of vitamin shots. He’d cooked himself an omelette, judging by the tiny scraps of fluffy golden egg left on his plate. My stomach snarled – God, how I wanted food, actual, honest-to-God food, something that smelled good, looked good, something that I could chew…

“You’re drooling,” Stephen remarked as I rolled up to the small, round table. He pulled one of the dining chairs out of the way, letting me park the wheelchair beside him.

“If I drool all over your food, you can’t eat it but I can, so who’s the winner there?”

His eyes darkened, momentarily stopping my breath.

“I’m picturing you drooling on other things right now.” His rough growl didn’t make it any easier to breathe. 

“What, like a cheeseburger?” I teased, trying to lighten the tone. Frightened to follow him down that path… because I wanted to go there, too. 

His lips twitched in a smile. “Yeah. Like a cheeseburger. Now give me your arm.”

“So,” I said a minute later as he slid the first shots into my arm, “we’re gonna talk about this baby. Sensibly. I left my ego in the shower and everything.”

I barely felt the next injection. Stephen’s touch was precise, gentle, controlled, the usual trembles controlled by the use of his magic. He didn’t speak until the injections were finished. 

“Good,” he said, bracing his hands against his forearms as the trembles returned. “What are we going to call her?”

“I was just gonna go with ‘bump’ till she’s like eighteen or something. Kids are choosing their own names these days, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Tony...”

“I said I left my ego in the shower. Didn’t say a thing about my inner child.”

Now his eyes sparkled. “She’s right there.” He nodded at my bump.

“Touché. So, uh...what _are_ we gonna call her?”

“We should draw up a list of names we like.”

“Oh God, don’t ask me to make a list. It usually takes me a half hour just to decide what kind of pizza I want.”

“How about family names, then? Your mother...”

“Not my mom,” I said immediately. I didn’t want to be reminded of the way she’d been murdered every single fucking time I called her name. “You had a sister, right?”

“Donna.” He sounded hesitant; his eyes slid away, and he cleared his throat. “You know she died?”

“I’m aware she drowned when you were both swimming. I’m sorry, Stephen.”

He looked up, flashing me a quick, surprised smile. “You did your homework.”

“You sacrificed yourself for me back on Titan. Let’s just say I’m real big on finding out everything there is to know about people who give up their lives for me.”

“Then I’d be honoured if we called the baby Donna,” he said. Was that a blush?

“It’s a pretty name.” I pictured a little girl with dark, curly hair, Stephen’s grey eyes and my nose. 

“And we’re going with the adoption story?” he asked.

“Yeah.” It was the safest option, at least for now. “When she’s older, I’ll tell her the truth. She deserves to know where she came from.”

“ _We’ll_ tell her the truth. I’m going to help you raise her, Tony.”

“I don’t want your help,” I said bluntly, trying to ignore the flipping sensation in my chest, the warm feeling that started to spread through me.

His face darkened. “Whether you want it or not is immaterial. Donna is my daughter, too.”

“Yeah? Who else is gonna know that?”

“Everyone,” he growled. His eyes burned with a hard light. “Because I’ll tell them the truth. The world knows Iron Man is alive, after that fight outside your hotel, and they’ll be scouring the world for any sign of you. How about I tell them about Donna, instead?”

“You wouldn’t!” I spat back, fear slithering up my spine like a snake. Why the fuck was he being like this? How could he change so quickly? 

This was crazy. I thought he wanted to keep magic secret! I thought… I thought he wanted to help me. To help Donna.

“Let me be a part of her life, and I won’t have to.” His words were like rock, implacable, impenetrable. 

“You let the cat out of the bag, and you’re _definitely_ not getting a place in her life,” I snarled. Pain surged through me body, burning so much it was almost physical.

“You keep me from her and the world will see that you’re a goddamn asshole!” His eyes were burning, incandescent. 

“Get out!” I yelled, fear and anger coalescing into one outburst. I was a fucking asshole. A terrible parent, a shitty substitute dad for Peter. He knew that. He knew all my weaknesses. “Goddamn you, just get out...” 

Then I burst into tears.

 

I couldn’t stop them. They poured down my face, scalding my eyes, soaking into my beard. I covered my face with both hands, feeling like a lost, scared, shamed little kid. If Stephen respected me, as he’d claimed, how could he make a threat like that?

He hadn’t promised that he wouldn’t hurt me. 

Gentle hands on my knees shamed me even more. Why the fuck wouldn’t he just _leave?_

“I’m sorry.” Stephen’s voice was rough, his emotions barely in check. “That was inexcusable. I’ll leave.”

But suddenly I didn’t want him to go, and this time the sharp turn in my feelings _was_ a physical pain. I swiped my palms over my eyes and down my cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears. Iron Man didn’t cry.

Iron Man didn’t get pregnant, either. What a fucking mess.

“Don’t go,” I rasped. Fresh tears stung my eyes as I looked at him; he was hazy, but I could still make out the fact that he was kneeling in front of me. The Cloak – reacting to raised voices, maybe – had draped over his shoulders and was reaching for me, trying to hold us both. “I’m sorry, too. Donna is yours just as much as she is mine.” It was hard to talk when my throat felt so tight. “We have to find a way to make this work.”

“What is it that bothers you so much about my involvement?” I felt the pads of his fingers pressing into the flesh above my knees; just a quick movement, there and then gone, but a clear indicator for those in the know that he was upset. It scared me that _I_ was in the know. Everything about this scared me.

I made another effort to wipe my face, in the end just grabbing the hem of my tank and roughly scrubbing the cloth over my skin. When I let it drop, Stephen’s eyes were riveted on my bump.

I thought about lying. But he deserved the truth. If he respected me, I had to respect him in turn.

“It’s the idea of relying on someone else,” I said. My voice was a croaky growl. “The idea of getting close to anyone else. Pepper broke me. I can’t go through that again.” I drew a slow, shuddery breath.

“You think you’re broken?” His voice was a quiet murmur, gentle and reassuring. I didn’t want it to be reassuring. I wanted him to shout at me, to lose his shit and get angry again, so that I could justify telling him to get lost. Only I’d just begged him not to go. I was a fucking mess of contradictions right now.

“I _know_ I am. And I was pretty damaged even before the Decimation.” 

“Ah. The way Wanda manipulated your mind.”

“You understand what that’s like, don’t you?” I was grasping at straws, but I needed him to understand this. We were so alike in so many ways, but I didn’t know if he would get this part of me.

His eyes played over my face. “Yes. I understand. When I first came to Kamar-Taj, I met with the Sorcerer Supreme. She showed me things... took me places in my mind... horrors and wonders. I understand why she did it, but she had no right.”

His hands were still on my knees, and I found myself scrabbling for them now. He understood. He understood _exactly_ how I’d felt. 

“You’re not broken, Tony. Your experiences with Wanda shaped you, as did your experiences with Pepper. But they didn’t break you. They made you stronger.”

“You – what – huh?” I shook my head, baffled. “I’m in a fucking wheelchair and you think I’m _strong?_ ”

“I _know_ you’re strong. After Thanos destroyed half the Universe with a snap of his fingers, you carried on.” He was squeezing my hands and I squeezed right back. “You got back to Earth. You found the survivors and you fought. That’s not just strength, that’s bravery. Courage.”

“Some would say its foolishness.” Something was bubbling up inside me, something light and happy, but it was counterbalanced by my fear.

“It doesn’t matter what other people say. All that matters is what you think. What you feel.”

“Do you still believe that?” I croaked. “I’m basically a host for what will probably be the world’s cutest little xenomorph, and you still think I’m strong?”

“Xenomorph?” He looked puzzled.

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never seen the _Alien_ movies?” 

“Not everyone’s life revolves around pop culture...”

I should let go of his hands. I should push him away, physically and verbally. But I just couldn’t. It was too hard to keep doing that.

“Having to rely on someone else right now,” I rasped, looking down to where our hands joined, “that scares the shit out of me. Putting my happiness in someone else’s hands... that scares the shit out of me, too.”

“But are you willing to try?”

I made myself look up, made myself look at his face. The grey in his eyes had lightened, filled with something that could have been hope. 

“What are you asking?” But I knew. Of course I knew.

“A relationship. I don’t want to keep hiding the fact that I care about you.”

“Can I...” I cleared my throat. “Can I have some time to think about that?”

“Of course.” His smile was dazzling and unexpected, and I focussed on the way the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. My own personal weakness. “You didn’t say ‘no’ straight away, and that gives me hope.”


	17. 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes to the realisation that he wants a relationship with Stephen. When the injured sorcerer returns from Kamar-Taj, he tends to his wounds.  
> They discuss the idea of adopting the baby out.

Stephen went back to the Sanctum to check in with Wong, and to catch up on sorcerer business. He promised he’d be back. I didn’t argue or try to make him stay; this shit with the Undying Ones was bigger than either of us, and he should be spending all his time with S.H.I.E.L.D instead of sharing it with me.

That wasn’t to say that I didn’t appreciate the time we’d spent together, regardless of how up and down we’d been. If he’d asked me even just yesterday if I was ready for a relationship, I’d have said no. Hell no. _Fuck_ no. That final meeting with Pepper the other night… I guess nothing she’d said had been unexpected, but it had just driven home the fact that we were truly, incontrovertibly over. 

I’d known that before I’d gone back out into space, before I’d fought Thanos. I’d thought I still loved her. I guess part of me still did, and maybe a part of me always would. We’d made good memories together. But the relationship was dead. The love was dead. That part of our lives was gone, and I had to move on.

The idea of a relationship still scared the hell out of me, but more because I wanted it so badly than because I was frightened of getting hurt. I _was_ frightened of getting hurt, and I knew that Stephen had the power to bring me to my knees… but I guessed that I had the power to hurt him, too.

I wanted to try to make things work. Not for Donna’s sake – although that was a big part of my decision – but for me, just for me. I wanted to bounce off his wit, honing my tongue against his. I wanted his humour and his unexpected compassion. I wanted… hell, I needed to be able to lean on him after Donna was born. To know that another living being cared for her… and for me.

Shit. Maybe F.R.I.D.A.Y was right. Maybe I _was_ falling in love.

Maybe I’d already fallen.

 

Bored by myself, with nothing to work on, I’d started Googling childcare basics. But it was hard to concentrate on YouTube videos showing me how to change a diaper, and some frankly terrifying page called Mumsnet, when my brain felt so fuzzy. In the end I just took another nap. 

Stephen’s return a couple of hours later woke me from a deep and, mercifully, nightmare free sleep. I blinked at him, still sleepy, as he stumbled through the gate.

“I didn’t mean to be away so long,” he said without preamble. I glanced at my watch – wow. Evening already? “There was an attack on the New York Sanctum.”

That made me sit up straight, though it took a couple seconds longer to move than usual. This baby was really sapping my energy, and _Jesus,_ the bump was growing. 

“You’re hurt,” I said, trying to lever myself up off the couch. Aside from the scratches and bruising from his earlier encounter, the Cloak had wrapped itself tightly around his lower left arm, and his tunic and overcoat seemed torn in places. 

“It’s nothing.” He crossed the room in two hungry strides, hands outstretched. “Don’t get up.”

I sank gratefully back onto the couch. I hated having to sit around on my ass, but given that I barely had the strength to get to my feet, I didn’t have much choice.

“Stephen,” I said, “if we’re gonna do this, we have to be truthful with each other.”

His eyes opened wide. “‘This’? You mean...?”

“Yeah.” He was usually so controlled; seeing his surprise was almost unsettling, but it was also important. It was a real reaction, a truth that he might not otherwise want me to see. “I’m sorry I told you I was rebounding from Pepper. I guess… so yeah, I guess it was a way to put some distance between us. But you know who I am.” I braced my arms on my knees. “And you understand what’s in here.” I tapped my forehead. “Like you said, we’ve got something, and I think we owe it to ourselves to find out what that is.”

He knelt in front of me, gently cupping my face in both hands. The gesture was so caring – almost genuflecting – that it caught me off guard. I stared into his eyes, enjoying the way the ends of the Cloak tried to curl over my knees.

“Good. That’s good.” His thumb smoothed over my cheek, then snatched his hand back. Did he think I’d freak out at the intimacy?

“You can touch me, Stephen.”

His smile was fleeting. “What I _want_ to do is whisk you off to bed and make love to you.”

Heat bloomed across my face. “That’s pretty much how we got in this mess in the first place, although I’d just like to state for the record that I’m never drinking again. And real neat job sidestepping the whole ‘you’re hurt’ thing, by the way.”

He winced. “I fell,” he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. “And it wasn’t exactly a gentle landing. I almost lost the Cloak.”

Worry made my stomach clench. “Just how far did you fall?” I demanded. “I’m guessing you didn’t trip over your own feet, so…?”

“How many stories… two? Three?” The Cloak pulled back so that it could nod, moving its collar. “It got pulled away by some persistent Undying Ones. I conjured a couple of shields to cushion most of the fall, but I couldn’t stop myself rolling. Broken masonry _hurts._ ”

“Yes,” I said, with the knowledge of experience, “it does. Now help me up – I think there’s a medical kit in the kitchen.”

 

“These Undying Ones have me a little… on edge,” Stephen admitted as he followed me into the kitchen, leaning against one of the units. Well, that was the politest way of saying ‘I’m scared’ that I’d ever heard. “I feel as if I’m being constantly tested. I’m the youngest Sorcerer Supreme for over a thousand years. I’m…”

“I get it,” I said, finding the medical kit, then got my next shake and round of vitamin shots from the refrigerator. “You feel like you’ve got big shoes to fill. But listen: - you saved Earth from that Dormammu douche, you put down a sorcerer rebellion, and you out-smarted Thanos. This new fight with the Undying Ones and this Nameless asshole? You’ve got this.”

His smile was tight and strained.

“I hadn’t realised how lonely my position was until recently,” he said. There was a bleakness to his voice, a sadness, that I’d never heard before. “I go back to Kamar Taj, or the New York Sanctum, and who is there to greet me? Wong is a fine friend, but he doesn’t really understand me. And he has an _appalling_ taste in music.” He shook his head. “The students see me only as some inscrutable master of the arcane, or worse yet, an arrogant manipulator who hordes knowledge and power to fuel my own agenda.” His hand came to rest on my shoulder as I rolled back into the lounge, the Cloak brushing the back of my neck. “But you truly understand loneliness. The responsibility that comes with power.”

My throat tightened. “It’s taken me a long time to understand real responsibility,” I said. “It’s also taken me a long time to understand that I’m not alone.” I looked up at him, smiling. “Not anymore.”

 

I’d been taking care of the majority of my own ouchies for a decade now; simple triage, I could handle. Stephen – still insisting that his wound wasn’t too bad – sat at the dining table, where I could lay out the medical kit. I got my injections out of the way and took a quick swig of the nutrient shake. If I pretended hard enough… no, no, it still tasted awful. Desire, thy name is cheeseburger.

I gestured for the Cloak to unwind itself. The fabric seemed reluctant to move, and when it finally did uncoil, I understood why: - Stephen’s sleeve had been torn to pieces, the wound beneath bloody and raw. Curiously, the Cloak was clean and free of blood. A dirt-proof magical garment. Neat.

“That looks nasty,” I said, wincing as I cut Stephen’s sleeve away.

“It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Did you just make a Monty Python joke?”

“Maybe.” His smile made the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkle.

“I don’t recall you ever saying that you’d watched it.” I grabbed a pair of tweezers. “This is gonna hurt.”

I began picking bits of debris out of the wounds, bits of asphalt, broken brick, the occasional small piece of glass. Never mind the removal process – just enduring the pain of that injury must have taken everything he had. But instead he’d been talking with me. Showing concern in how _I_ was, when he should have asked immediately for medical treatment. Idiot.

“I don’t recall us ever talking about TV,” he said. The tension in his jaw was the only outward sign of his pain.

“I really think that’s something we would have talked about on the ship,” I said, working quickly to remove the debris. “I mean, weeks and weeks without TV? I know I was drunk or hungover most of the time, but you’d think one of us would at least have asked who we thought was gonna win _Dancing With The Stars._ ”

“God, I never watched that drivel even when I had access to cable.” He let out a soft grunt; I flicked my eyes to his face just in time to see him wince.

“Come on, you must have missed _something._ Do you even have a TV at Kamar-Taj? What about the Sanctum?”

“It’s Nepal, Tony, not the back of beyond. We have Wi-Fi.”

There – the last piece of debris. “Well, excuse me for assuming.” I reached for the medical alcohol and the wipes. I might have imagined it, but I thought Stephen’s face paled. “I must have missed my invitation to Kamar-Taj. Oh wait, I never got one.”

“That will change as soon as this current conflict is resolved.” There was a steely resolve in his voice that I hadn’t heard before; when I looked up from his arm, that resolve was reflected in his eyes. “Kamar-Taj is a sanctuary, a place of peace. It would be a good place to raise Donna.” Then his eyes flicked to me, and the resolve faded. “That is, if that’s something you want…”

His uncertainty was painful to see. We’d argued about everything so far; it was no wonder he expected us to argue about this. 

“The truth is that I kind of feel… I don’t know… stateless right now,” I said, cleaning his wounds with methodical movements. He growled low in his throat, hand clenching. I worked faster. “New York was my home for a long time. That time is over. Wakanda’s nice, and Shuri’s been beyond generous, but I feel as if I’m imposing on her hospitality. That nursery… I mean, that’s just incredible.” A few more passes of the wipe over his arm, and I’d be done. “This isn’t my home, either.” I shrugged. “So yeah, I guess I could go live in Kamar-Taj.”

I set the bloodied wipes aside. Stephen slumped, the tension gone from his body, sweat streaking his brow. The Cloak, who until this point had stayed, hovering, out of the way, now settled over his shoulders. 

“You’re a businessman, Tony.” I wasn’t imagining the defeat in his voice. “A scientist. You wouldn’t be happy there.”

“I don’t have a business anymore. I don’t have a lab. Beyond looking after Donna, I have zero idea what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

 

I stitched the larger cuts, using steri-strips on the smaller ones. He bore that with the stoicism he’d shown during the rest of the process, but the conversation seemed to have dried up. I didn’t like being left alone with my thoughts – the last couple days had been crazy, and I’d been so caught up with thinking about the baby that there’d been no space left for what would happen after she was born.

I also knew that it wasn’t going to be a question I could answer overnight. Staying at Wakanda would give me the space and safety I needed, and even though I really did feel as if I was taking advantage of Shuri’s generous nature, I was going to continue taking advantage for as long as it took to decide what needed to be done. Everything Shuri had given me, I intended to return… I just didn’t know when that would be.

“All done,” I said, setting the last stitch. 

“Not bad,” Stephen remarked, studying my handiwork. “Especially for someone with no medical training.”

“I may not have the training but I certainly have the experience. Although I don’t recommend cauterising your own wounds when you’ve just been stabbed with your own nanite blade.” I felt a sudden flash of phantom-pain, there and then gone. A memory and nothing more… but a memory that would never leave me.

“Yeah, maybe don’t do that again.”

I flashed him a brief, sour smile. “I’ll try not to. Look, uh… are you staying tonight?”

I busied myself cleaning up the blood-stained wipes, tidying the medical kit, intending to wheel the used needles from my injections, and the empty shake bottle, back into the kitchen. But his hand on my shoulder stopped me.

His eyes bored into mine. “You’re carrying our child. I want...” He shook his head. “I’m staying for as long as I can. I’ll ask Shuri for a room.”

“You can share mine,” I said, trying for a nonchalant shrug. It was more than just letting him share my sleeping space. It was about letting him in, letting him be a part of my life, of Donna’s life. Acknowledging – finally – that he belonged with us.

His fierce smile was like a ray of sunshine. 

 

We got ready for bed, the Cloak circling the end of the bed a couple times before settling into a heap like a protective dog. 

Stephen and I moved around each other – using the bathroom, changing into sleep clothes – without a word, but not once did we get in each other’s way, despite the damned wheelchair. It was like a choreographed dance, beautiful and perfect in its own way.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror when Stephen was taking a shower, turning sideways. The bump was much bigger now. My belly button looked as if it was about to pop out. I tried not to think about the Caesarean, but it was hard not to imagine the scar. Although it wasn’t as if I didn’t already have plenty.

I never once thought my life would go this way. Who would? Before I’d gone to Afghanistan to give that stupid goddamn speech, I’d had no expectations about my future and no real plans. I had my inventions – and I suppose that was a business I could start up again, if I could get the capital together – but at that time in my life, I’d had no personal goals. I’d been vain, shallow and breathtakingly arrogant, naïve to the point of blindness.

Becoming Iron Man had forced me to grow. It had ejected me from my protective cocoon, smearing dirty, grimy reality across my vision, opening my eyes to how the world really worked. For the first time in my life I’d had something like a social conscience, an understanding that the products my company made changed people’s lives – often for the worst. 

I’d fallen in love with Pepper. I’d tried so hard to be the kind of guy she needed; sturdy, dependable, always there when she needed him. In the end I hadn’t managed to be any of those things. I’d failed her. Iron Man had failed her. And she’d left me because of it.

Now here I was, bizarrely pregnant, with the affections – or at the very least, the attention – of the Sorcerer Supreme. I’d spent the last couple years looking at the very biggest of pictures; how to protect the Earth from aliens, how to defeat Thanos, how to resurrect half the fucking Universe. How to live with myself – if that was even possible – if I failed yet again. 

Now I had to start looking at the small picture again. But not for me. Not even for Stephen. For Donna. I had to figure out how to do the right thing for her.

For a few seconds, I contemplated giving her up for adoption. What the fuck did I know about parenting? I knew what distant parents looked like. I knew what cold, disapproving parents looked like. 

What I had only the sketchiest of ideas about was what a decent, honest, hard-working – crime-fighting – parent looked like.

Clint had kids. Lots of ‘em. I wondered if I could talk to him, find out what it took to raise a whole bunch of little rugrats. I knew working for S.H.I.E.L.D took him away from home, often for long periods of time, but when he was there... I remembered the brief time we’d spent as his guests while laying low during the whole Ultron mess. His wife adored him, and it was clear he worshipped the ground she walked on. He would move Heaven and Earth to keep those kids safe.

But he’d lost his family in the Decimation. They were back now, but I doubted I’d ever be his favourite person. I was the guy who could have stopped Thanos the first time round, but hadn’t.

Natasha couldn’t have kids. Banner _wouldn’t_ have kids. Thor... somehow, I doubted he’d ever settle down. Certainly not while he was still mourning the slaughter of his people and searching for the remnants. For all I knew, he and the Valkyrie chick were the only Asgardians left alive in the entire Universe.

I hoped for their sakes that they weren’t. 

Neither James Rhodes nor Sam Wilson had families. Scott Lang had a little girl, but he also had a criminal record. Although now I thought about it, that record was because he’d stood up for what he believed in.

Then there was Peter and his Aunt May. Raising him, after her husband had been killed, couldn’t have been easy; the kid was like a Labrador puppy, too much energy and not enough direction. I knew he saw me as a substitute dad. I’d tried to shy away from those responsibilities. In the course of teaching him how to be a superhero, I think I’d taught him a little bit about what it meant to be a man… mostly about what _not_ to do, like bury your problems in a bottle of booze.

I circled back to the idea of adoption. On the face of it, it was a sensible idea. Donna could have a whole family, with two married, totally straight parents – both of whom would have a sensible job – brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. Maybe even cousins. She’d be able to go out on her bike without journalists following her. She wouldn’t need a bodyguard. She’d go to a regular school, make friends – 

“Stop,” I muttered aloud. “For Christ’s sake, just stop it!”

“Are you OK?” Stephen wandered out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his slim hips, running another through his hair. I was rendered momentarily speechless by the pale, smooth expanse of his chest. Beautiful, despite – or perhaps because of – the thin white scars criss-crossing his skin. I’d found him a waterproof dressing for the wounds on his arm. 

My memories of the night we’d spent together were patchy. I hadn’t remembered the absolute work of art that his barely dressed state revealed. His long body – narrower across the shoulders, chest and hips than mine – was attractive, acres of pale skin broken by pale pink scars. His nipples were small and tempting. 

“Adoption,” I blurted out, scrambling to gather my thoughts. 

“I’m sorry?”

I focussed on his face so I didn’t get any more distracted. “I was wondering what life would be like for Donna if I – if we – put her up for adoption.”

His eyebrows dipped into a frown. “You’re seriously considering that as an option?”

“If it’s an option I have to consider it seriously,” I said. “God knows it’s right up there with getting a root canal, but we have to think about whether that might be good for her.”

He draped the small towel around his shoulders. Strands of dark, fine hair partly covered his forehead.

“I can’t...” He trailed off. Shook his head. His lips thinned. “I don’t want to give her up, Tony.”

“She could have a normal life.” Why the fuck was I trying to persuade him? _I_ didn’t want to give her up, either. 

“You can’t guarantee that!”

“You’re right,” I said, subsiding, letting the stupid idea go. “You’re right. I just... I thought we should consider it, that’s all.” 

His nostrils flared as he took a slow, deep breath.

“We considered it. We decided it was terrible. We moved on.”

But as I took my turn in the bathroom, part of me was still wondering whether we should have considered it some more.

 

“I’m a space hogger,” I said a few minutes later. “You should know that. It’s just if I kick you in my sleep, it’s because I want your space. Nothing personal.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to let you move much.” There was a dark promise in Stephen’s voice that made me shiver. 

I pulled the blanket back and got into bed. He seemed comfortable in nothing but sleep shorts, but I wore shorts and a long tank; I wasn’t comfortable with my belly on display. I lay on my back, blanket pulled up under my armpits, feeling like a fucking self-conscious fourteen year old as Stephen climbed in beside me. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. I should have let him ask Shuri for a room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, lights out,” I said. The lights immediately cut out, plunging the room into darkness. 

I felt Stephen’s warmth. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but the couple of inches between us felt like a gulf. 

His fingertips grazed my wrist. I turned my palm out and caught his hand. Who knew that could be so easy?

“I never once pictured myself as a father,” he said into the warm, dark silence. “I was always so driven by goals: - studying, becoming a surgeon, furthering my career.”

I scooted closer. His arm slid around my shoulders, drawing me against his side. It felt natural to turn toward him. It felt even more natural to drape my arm over him. In the dark, it was easier to touch him. Easier to be touched. 

“Never once pictured myself as a baby mama,” I said. This close, the scent of the shower gel competed with his own natural scent, but didn’t overwhelm it. “Am I gonna be Daddy, or Dad, or...” I broke off as a fresh wave of awkwardness swept over me.

“Plenty of children have two fathers,” Stephen answered. “Myself, I quite like the sound of ‘Papa’. Puts a little Continental twist on it.”

“So I can be Daddy?”

I heard a faint rustle of cloth, then felt his lips press against the side of my neck. Gentle, tender, yet exciting.

“You can be Daddy.”

 

I thought it would take a long time to fall asleep, but I was out within minutes. I was warm and comfortable. For those few minutes it was OK to feel safe and protected.

For all that I’d said I wanted to try a relationship with Stephen, it had to be on my terms. There were so many other things to worry about that people finding out I wasn’t the one hundred per cent straight playboy I’d been was actually pretty low on my list of priorities. I wasn’t a billionaire either. That was rather higher up the list.

I wouldn’t – couldn’t – try to change myself to be what he needed, as I had with Pepper. If I wasn’t enough for him right now, if I wasn’t _right_ for him, than that was that.  
That scared me. But it was a risk I was willing to take. I deserved another shot at happiness, dammit, and Donna deserved to have her Papa.


	18. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakanda is attacked by a raiding party of Undying Ones.  
> Following Tony's collapse, Shuri determines that the baby is growing faster than Tony's body can cope with, and if she doesn't get an external power source soon, both could die.  
> Tony suggests implanting a miniature ARC reactor. Stephen is against the idea and vows to research a magical solution, but back at Kamar-Taj, he's attacked again by the Undying Ones.

The hard, ear-jangling sound of an alarm woke me from what had been an unusually peaceful sleep.

“Lights,” I said, running a hand down my face and trying to sit up. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, what the hell’s going on?”

“Wakanda is under attack, boss!”

“What the…”

In the few seconds it had taken me to speak to F.R.I.D.A.Y, Stephen had rolled out of bed and used magic to dress in super-quick time. The Cloak settled over his shoulders, billowing dramatically.

“Stay here,” he announced. “If it’s the Undying Ones, I’ll need to co-ordinate with Shuri.”

“Like hell I’m staying here,” I growled, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun, and I had to clutch the edge of the mattress for support.

“This is not up for discussion, Tony! If you won’t spare a thought for your own safety, at least think about Donna!”

“Didn’t Viking women go into battle when they were pregnant or something?” I muttered, lifting my legs back into bed. 

“You are neither Viking. Nor a woman.” He crossed to my side of the bed, perching on the edge, reaching out to cup my face. Like the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, I was coming to love that particular touch. “And for some inexplicable reason, you’re dear to me.”

“Go, go,” I said, waving him away, “before I start getting all mushy. God knows no one likes a crying pregnant dude.”

He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. A moment later he’d created a gate, stepped through, and was gone.

“Well, that sucks,” I muttered, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you patch me through to Shuri? And maybe turn that damned alarm off?”

The alarm stopped. “Tony.” Shuri’s holographic image appeared in the middle of the room. “Are you OK?”

“Peachy. Is Stephen with you? What’s happening?”

“I sent Stephen to my brother. Wakanda is under aerial assault from the Undying Ones.” She said something in a word I didn’t recognise. Her native tongue, maybe. Disgust and derision sounded pretty much the same in any language. “They are big and strong, but they are flying _monkeys_ and I cannot take them seriously.”

“Pretty sure that’s what Dorothy said, too.” T’Challa, as the rightful king of Wakanda and the current bearer of the Black Panther mantle, was lethal on the battlefield, and I had no doubt that he and Stephen – and the Dora Milaje – could send these Undying Ones back to Oz.

“Yes, well, we have many things that Dorothy does not. Relax – the enemy will not make it beyond our perimeter.”

“We, uh, I guess we should leave,” I said. I closed my eyes, picturing the nursery, the beautiful atriums. “Pretty sure either Stephen or I brought these flying assholes here.”

“You cannot know that,” she said sharply. “These attacks are happening all over the world now, not just New York. Not just the United States.”

“I don’t wanna put your people in danger –”

“I invited you here as my guests!” She sounded increasingly irritated; she turned to one side, speaking rapidly in Wakandan to someone off screen. “I will not rescind my invitation!”

“Yeah, pretty sure your brother’s gonna kick us out, though.” We’d have to go to Kamar-Taj. It was the last safe place, although that safety was already arguable. 

“He will not.” She spoke with such certainty that I almost believed her. “Go back to sleep. Let us take care of this.”

“Your city’s under attack and you expect me to go back to _sleep?_ I should be out there helping! And before you say a goddamn word, yes, I _know_ I’m fucking pregnant!”

“Tony.” Her voice had softened, her frame relaxing for a moment. “There is an army between you and these Undying Ones. We will prevail.”

 

Stephen was dying. He was right there on the floor, covered in blood, the Cloak a torn, tattered mess. An Undying One stood with a heavy clawed foot on his back, pushing him into the mud. I strained to get to him but I couldn’t move; somehow I was rooted to the spot, paralysed, unable to even shout. 

I held Donna in my arms and she was screaming. I couldn’t comfort her. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t protect myself. The Undying Ones were going to kill us all and now _I_ was screaming –

Only I was awake, and the scream was more of a whimper.

I eased myself into a sitting position, pillows tucked behind me. A nightmare. The lights were off. So I had managed to sleep, but it would have been better if I hadn’t. 

Sweat dripped drown my face. The blanket clung to my legs until I batted it aside.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you give me an update?”

“The battle’s over, boss. The Undying Ones are departing.”

“Thank fuck for that.” I was relieved, but it was hollow. Whether Shuri believed it or not, I was sure that either Stephen or I were responsible for the attack on Wakanda. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Tell Stephen where I am if he gets back before I’m out of the bathroom, OK?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

But when I tried to move, aching pain rippled through my body. Exhaustion made my head swim.

“Maybe I’ll just stay right here,” I grunted. “Gimme some light, will ya?”

Soft light filled the room. I stared at my swollen belly. 

“Stop with the growth spurts, kid, OK?” I muttered. “You’re gonna give me killer stretch marks.”

Then – because I felt alone and guilty and sore – I started crying.

 

I’d more or less got my shit together when Stephen gated back into the bedroom, posture tense, eyes searching. He crossed the room in a couple of big strides, sitting on the mattress in front of me. He grabbed my arms, looking into my face.

“I’m fine,” I croaked. OK, so maybe I didn’t have as much of my shit together as I’d hoped. “The, uh, the baby grew some more.” I waved at my belly, just in case he hadn’t noticed the elephant in the room. “Are you alright?”

He leaned forward, eyes softening, and kissed me.

I felt myself melting against him, taken aback by the kiss but so, so ready to lose myself in the contact. His tongue slid against my lips. I opened my mouth, tongue coming out to meet his, taking comfort from the connection. The Cloak billowed around us both.

“I am now,” he said, pulling back so that he could rest his forehead against mine. 

We sat like that for a few minutes, the three of us bundled together. Eventually Stephen put more space between us. The Cloak slithered over me.

“Were you hurt?” I asked.

“No. Actually it turns out that I was surplus to requirements.”

“Shuri told me they had it handled.”

“She wasn’t joking. I’ve never had the opportunity to see T’Challa or the Royal Guard fight.”

“Casualties?”

“None that I was aware of. The Nameless One only sent a small raiding party. I think he was just testing the Wakandan defences.”

“They were here for you or me, right?”

“I… believe that is likely. There are random attacks all over the world, and I know that S.H.I.E.L.D and other agencies are running interference where they can, but we have had to endure several attacks now. I’m… I’m sorry that you’ve become a target.”

“I’d have made myself a target anyway,” I said, shrugging. “You’re my friend. Anyone who picks on my friends finds that life gets real interesting, real quick. Also, real short.”

“Only your friend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, maybe a bit more than a friend.” I held up a thumb and forefinger. “Just a little bit more.”

 

Stephen insisted we go see Shuri. I didn’t want to bother her – she was probably running around studying whatever data they’d managed to get on the Undying Ones – but he insisted, and I wasn’t inclined to argue too much. I was noticeably weaker than I’d been when I got into bed. Donna had grown larger, my legs felt like jelly… yeah, I was pretty sure she was draining me dry. 

I tried not to let my fear show, but I wasn’t just frightened: - I was terrified.

 

“I feared this might happen,” Shuri said later. She’d already stuck me with another round of injections, and I was drinking as much enhanced shake as I could choke down my throat. The Cloak had settled on my lap, like a lap dog guarding its master. “We already knew the baby was growing at an exaggerated rate, and we have taken steps to counteract the massive drain on your body’s resources. But it’s not enough.”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t want to hear the answer. 

“She’s taking more energy than we can restore through injections and shakes. If we don’t think of a solution, your body will cease to function before she can be born.”

“That’s, uh...” I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands bunched together over my bump. A corner of the Cloak lifted and stroked the back of my hand. “That’s a clinical way of telling me I’m gonna die, right?”

Shuri flinched. Stephen let out a low, frustrated growl.

“We still have time to work on a solution,” she said.

“She needs an energy source?” Given that we were talking about _my_ impending death, I seemed to be the least phased person in the room. I guess that kind of thing happened when you’d faced certain death… God, so many times now I’d lost count. I guess I’d become a little blasé about it. But when it affected my daughter – I couldn’t be blasé about that.

“Yes. Even augmented with shakes and injections, what you’re producing is not enough for her.”

I looked at Stephen. “Did you come across any references to this kind of thing when you were researching the Swaddling Cloth?”

“No.” His face was a grim, set mask. “All the accounts describe accelerated growth, but there are no records of...”

“Death.” I swallowed again. “You can say it.”

The look he turned on me was so full of anguish that I stopped breathing for a few seconds. Finally I took a slow, ragged breath. 

“There must me a magical way to sort this out,” he said.

“How long have I got, Shuri?” I asked. “If I keep up the meal replacements and vitamin shots, how long have I got?”

“At your current rate of degeneration...” She made a few calculations on her electronic pad. “Twelve hours. Fifteen at most.”

It was almost dawn now. If we didn’t find a solution, I’d be dead by dinner. 

“There is another way,” I said into the anxious silence. I waved a hand at the ARC reactor fixed to the front of my tank top. Shuri’s eyes narrowed as she thought through the problem. 

“Explain,” Stephen growled. 

“The first version of my ARC reactor powered a magnet that kept the debris embedded in my chest away from my heart,” I explained. “Eventually I was able to have the debris removed. The latest version of the suit is made from nanites, which are both stored in and powered by the reactor. We just create a baby-sized version and stick it in me –”

“That’s a terrible idea!” Stephen interrupted. “You spent how many years trying to get the damned thing out of you?”

“Correction – I spent years waiting for medical science to advance to the point where I could have the goddamned shrapnel taken out of my chest without it killing me,” I growled, stung by his instant criticism. “The reactor powers my suit, but I always designed it to be more powerful than I needed. So if we just scale it down –”

“You can’t just stick it on her chest!”

“Come on, Shuri,” I said, looking to her for support. The support that should be coming from Stephen. Why was he being so damned stubborn about this? “Give me a way that we can make this work.”

Stephen glowered at her, defying her with a look to say anything. Well, if he thought she’d be cowed by a single look, he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. 

“There may be a way,” she said, returning that look with a cool, unfazed one of her own. “We cannot attach anything directly to the baby, but that won’t be necessary. She absorbs all of her vitamins and nutrients through the umbilical cord.”

“There we go,” I said, slapping my hands together in emphasis and pointing at Stephen. “It’s a simple, elegant solution. The kid’s born, the cord comes out, we take the reactor out with it.”

“This level of technology is completely untested!” Stephen said, eyes flashing. “God only knows what the side effects will be –”

“There won’t be any side effects! The baby would be drawing power from the reactor, nothing more!”

“We would need to forge a connection point,” Shuri cautioned, holding up a hand. “A bridge between the reactor and the umbilical cord. It will need to act as a resistor so that we can monitor Donna’s energy requirements and adjust the output as required.”

“And how the hell do you propose to do that?” Stephen demanded.

I met Shuri’s eyes. “Nanites,” we said at the same time.

Stephen dragged a hand down over his face. “So along with putting an untested reactor – let’s just focus on that word, _reactor_ – inside your body, you’re going to add nanites.”

“It’s not untested,” I said, hotly defending my own inventions. “In fact both the reactor tech and the nanites have been very thoroughly tested, so believe me when I say –”

“They’ve not been tested in this context!” he snarled. “Will you just listen to yourself, Tony? Listen to what you’re actually proposing?”

The Cloak, reacting to the tension in the room, to the raised voices, flattered itself protectively over my belly. 

“Right, because your proposal makes _so_ much more sense,” I said. “Let me just wait while you flick through a couple dusty old books to find a magical solution that might not even exist! You said yourself that there are no records of this ever happening before –”

“Just because there’s no records doesn’t mean it never happened! There’ll be a reference somewhere, there has to be!”

I wheeled my chair away from him, deliberately turning my back on him. I was done with this conversation.

“I’ll give you full access to the ARC data,” I told Shuri. Technically that data belonged to Stark Enterprises, which now belonged to Pepper, but I’d been paranoid enough about it falling into the wrong hands that I’d kept my own copies. “I’ll work with you. I need to know how this procedure’s gonna work.”

“Tony!” Stephen came back into my line of sight, reaching for me, his hands trembling more than ever. I wanted to ignore him, but I wasn’t that much of an asshole – he was scared, I could see that. I just could not ignore that.

I took his hands in mine, smoothing my thumbs over his scarred knuckles. I didn’t care that we weren’t alone. According to Shuri – according to Natasha – we’d been the last ones to know what was going on, anyway.

“Look for a magical solution,” I told him. I knew he couldn’t just sit by while we worked; it was part of his nature to solve this problem, just as it was part of mine. Neither of us could let this go. It was good that we had our own approaches.

“I’ll be back at the Sanctum,” he said. “Stay in contact. Every hour.” He squeezed my hands. “Promise me.”

“I promise I’ll try.” It was the best I could do, and he seemed to understand that.

“Shuri, could we...” He cleared his throat. “Could we have a moment? Alone?”

“Of course.” She stepped out of the lab.

When she was gone he crouched in front of me. Bringing one of my hands to his mouth, he kissed my palm.

“Keep that up I’m gonna start crying,” I said, already feeling the hard sting of tears. 

“I didn’t know this would happen,” he said. “I promise you, I didn’t know –”

“I’m not blaming you. This isn’t your fault.” Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “Though if one of us had just thought to use a condom we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I didn’t sacrifice myself to Thanos just to watch you die,” he said with a fierce growl, eyes burning into mine. He seized my face in his hands, pulling me down for a hard, bruising kiss that left me desperate for more. 

“Not intending to let that happen,” I gasped, chasing his mouth as he pulled away. The kiss this time was slow and deep, exploring, but bitter-sweet. I felt the gentle slide of the Cloak over the back of my neck as it coiled loosely around us.

Stephen pulled back, resting his forehead against mine for a few seconds. He stepped away, the Cloak surging off my lap to settle over his shoulders. 

He opened a gate and was gone.

 

It was a good job that I didn’t need to do much more than move my arms, because that was pretty much all I could do right now. My legs wouldn’t move. Fear sat in the pit of my stomach, a hard, heavy ball, though that could have been Donna bouncing on my bladder. 

I called up all the plans for the ARC reactor and the nanites, all the notes I’d made over the years, all the upgrades. I’d stored them in various corners of the dark web, hidden in deep corners, disguised as other things: - J.A.R.V.I.S had given me the idea when he’d gone WWW after Ultron kicked him out of his own server. Shuri and I poured over the designs. 

Shuri waved a hand. A holographic image hovered in the air. A baby in the womb.

“The lining of the womb is called the placenta,” Shuri explained. “The umbilical cord connects your baby’s belly button to the placenta. It keeps your blood flow separate, while also providing a link between you.”

“Alright,” I said. “So where do we put the reactor?”

“The umbilical cord is there.” A section of the hologram pulsed, drawing my eye. “The safest way to go in – and I use the term loosely – will be through the side of your abdomen.” More sections of the hologram pulsed. “The nanite resistor can be connected to the umbilical cord. Here, perhaps.” Another pulse. “The reactor can be temporarily grafted to the lining of the womb.”

“What’s the surgery gonna be like?”

“Well, at this stage of your pregnancy there is a great risk,” she cautioned. “I would advise a keyhole procedure under general anaesthetic.”

A gate opened. Stephen ran through, clothes dishevelled, hair messed. Blood smeared his cheek.

“Regular updates, Tony!” he yelled. The Cloak flipped and billowed behind him, clearly agitated. “What happened to once an hour?” He closed the gate with a sharp wave of his hand.

“How about we start with what happened to your face?” This was starting to feel like a familiar argument. 

“Undying Ones,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Every hour, I said. You _promised!_ ”

“I promised I’d try!” I growled, suddenly resentful. Was he concerned for me, or the kid? “And we’ve got something to share with the class, so your timing’s great.” 

He raked us both with a glower. Shuri looked a little embarrassed. I was unmoved.

“Alright.” He moved to stand beside my wheelchair, arms crossed, still glowering. “I’m listening.”

_Well thank you so fucking much for gracing us with your presence and attention,_ I thought, sourness bubbling up inside me. 

The sourness immediately turned to shame. In his own way he _was_ helping, searching for a magical solution. It wasn’t his fault that the Sanctum was under attack. 

Shuri and I explained the procedure. I watched Stephen’s face darken, watched the scowl twisting his mouth. The way his eyes flashed with cold fire. 

“My position on this is unchanged,” he said, when we’d finished. “It’s an awful idea. The technology is unproven –”

“Didn’t you do exactly the same when you tried to fix your hands?” I demanded.

“It was only my hands at stake!”

“And your career.” I had to make him see reason on this, to get him to understand; we didn’t have time for any other solution.

“We’re talking about your _life!_ And Donna’s life!”

“You think I don’t _know_ that?” I yelled, anxiety finally exploding out of me. “What choice do I have? We’re outta options here!”

“What about a premature birth?” Stephen asked, turning back to Shuri. “Is Donna far enough along to survive outside of the womb? Or maybe… could we create an artificial womb?”

Shuri picked up her tablet and tapped the screen. 

“Her size and development indicate that she is at approximately twenty-six weeks gestation. She could survive. But premature babies face a multitude of potential complications –”

“And an artificial womb?”

Fuck _that._ The only place this kid was growing was inside me.

“That kind of technology is still in its infancy,” Shuri said. “We do not have time to fashion one that I would feel confident to use.”

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a hard breath. The lines around the corners of his eyes became more visible, the tension on his forehead impossible to miss. This was hitting him hard, and for a moment I felt my animosity soften.

Then I remembered that _I_ was the one carrying this kid, not him, and the moment passed.

“Prep him for an early C-section,” he said. “Call me when you’re ready.”

“Like hell you will!” I snarled. “Don’t you think we should kinda _discuss_ this before you start making arbitrary decisions?”

“This is the safest option!”

“Safest doesn’t always mean best!”

As Stephen opened his mouth to argue again, another gate opened. Wong – his face bloody – stepped partway through, then turned half back so that he could shoot a bolt of magical energy at something out of sight.

“Stephen!” he gasped. “I need you back here!”

“Go,” I urged him. “You have to defend the Sanctum.” I wasn’t so vain as to think that my life – or even Donna’s life – were more important than defending the sorcerer’s headquarters; in the wrong hands, the lore and relics there could conquer the Universe.   
That wasn’t to say that I didn’t think mine and Donna’s lives were important. But working to defeat Thanos had given me a little perspective on the big picture.

“Tony...” Stephen was torn, I could see that. “Promise me you won’t make a decision before I get back?”

“I can’t promise that.” I had to be honest, even if that honesty hurt us both. 

He glanced at Wong, then looked back at me.

“Please...?”

I almost cracked. I knew how much it cost him to say the word. But I also knew that I couldn’t keep that kind of promise. So I just shook my head.

“Stephen!” Wong shouted. Coloured ropes of energy whipped out of his hands; through the gate I heard screeches. An explosion shook Wong’s balance.

“Go,” I said again, more urgently this time. “I can get a team together for you –”

“I look after my own problems,” he snarled, then ran through the gate. It vanished behind him.

In that moment I knew he wasn’t just talking about himself. He was talking about me. About us. His order to get me into surgery was his way of protecting me. 

But by going down that route he could potentially be harming Donna’s chances. And that I couldn’t allow.

I looked at Shuri. Her hands were right on the tablet, her eyes wide. I felt sorry for her – I’d dragged her into this. She’d come for the science, not the drama.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” I muttered.

“So… an early C-section is out of the question, yes?”

“Let’s just say I’m gonna put it on the back bench for now.”

“Stephen is correct, you know. That _is_ the safest option.”

“I want to give my baby the best start in life. If that means getting her to full term, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Will you at least wait until Stephen returns?”

“So he can talk me out of it? No way. What’s our best estimate to manufacture the reactor and the resistor?”

“We will need perhaps an hour or two to program the nanites. They can be manufactured in minutes. The ARC reactor…” She consulted her notes. “I will need to modify some of my equipment, so perhaps another hour or two on top of that.” She gave me a stern look. “You realise that by doing this, you are also making an arbitrary decision?”

“There’s nothing arbitrary about it. I must have spent a whole couple minutes more thinking about it.”

“Are you always this glib?” 

“Well, sometimes I’m asleep.” I wheeled my chair closer to her. “Shuri, I have thought about this. If I go for the C-sec now, my daughter won’t be fully grown. She may have health problems down the line.”

“And if you die as a result of this procedure?”

“The chances of that happening are pretty small, right? And that’s on me. My choice. My responsibility. I know Donna will be cared for.” I swallowed convulsively. 

“Ethically, I should get consent from both parents…”

“Look, Shuri...” I rubbed the fingers of one hand into my eyes. “Stephen and I got drunk and had sex. This kid is the result of magical meddling. We’re not exactly...” I’d been about to say ‘together’, but that wasn’t quite true. “We just haven’t had time to work on the whole ‘couple’ thing. I’m the mom. You have my consent.”

Shuri regarded me with solemn eyes. 

“I hope you do not come to regret this choice.”

You and me both, kiddo. You and me both.


	19. 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has the miniature ARC reactor implanted, refusing to wait until Stephen returns.  
> They talk as he is recuperating, and Stephen reveals that his feelings run deeper than he was previously willing to let on.

I felt like a spare part as Shuri worked on the nanite program. She had access to all the data she needed. I reviewed each line of code as it was rewritten, viewing it on a holographic unit, suggesting changes. I didn’t need to say much. Shuri really was brilliant.

“Tony, you need to rest.” A gentle hand on my shoulder startled me out of a doze. 

I dragged my hands over my face. “You’re right. But I can’t stop now.”

“You can and you will.” She put her hands on her hips. 

“I’m more than twice your age,” I said. “How about I just look at you with stern disapproval until you forget I’m here?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve met my mother. You don’t know stern disapproval until you’ve received it from a Wakandan queen.”

“OK, OK...” I held up both hands. “This is me, going to my room, to take a nice little nap.”

 

I was in a deep sleep when Shuri woke me. I felt terrible. This baby was literally draining the life out of me, and now I could barely lift my arms up. My belly was round and swollen. The tank top wasn’t big enough to cover it anymore.

“Give a pregnant guy a hand?” I asked.

“I wish you would reconsider,” she said, helping me into the chair with a grunt of effort. Kid was stronger than she looked. “Just wait a little longer. I’m sure Stephen will be back soon.”

I _couldn’t_ wait any longer. For my own sanity we had to act, while I still had enough mental faculties left to make that choice. 

“We’re doing this now.”

 

She prepped me for surgery. Laid out on a gurney in her lab, she and her team did all the boring bits – took my blood pressure, yadda, yadda, yadda. I zoned out. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. It was almost a relief to get some sleep – however artificial – that wasn’t full of nightmares.

I barely felt the sting of a needle as she pumped me full of sedative. 

 

Someone was calling my name. I was groggy. I was so groggy I couldn’t open my eyes. Easier just to keep them closed. 

“Cold,” I mumbled. 

I heard a rustle of cloth. Someone tucking a heavy blanket around my shoulders. Warmth. A familiar scent, comforting. I slipped deeper.

“Tony, wake up. It’s time to wake up.”

No. It was time to sleep. 

“Come on, Tony…”

Shuri. I didn’t want to hear Shuri.

“Stephen…?”

“He’s outside.” 

Something in her voice – a hard note, maybe – made me struggle to get my eyes open. I squinted against the cold, antiseptic glare of the room, struggling to focus. 

Shuri was working on a tablet. I was hooked up to all kinds of wires. I was in a side-room off the main lab. What I’d thought was a blanket tucked snuggly around my shoulders was actually the Cloak of Levitation. I touched the fabric, my fingers slow and clumsy. It shivered.

“Why…?” I swallowed, trying to get a little moisture going in my dry mouth. 

“Because he could not keep a civil tongue in his head.” Her tone hardened further and she scowled. When she realised I was looking at her, her features relaxed. “He was not in the best of moods when he realised what we had done. I told him he was not welcome until he calmed down.”

Oh, God. Poor Shuri. Stephen would have been furious – incandescent, maybe – and by going ahead with this operation, I’d left Shuri to deal with that by herself. That wasn’t just unfair, it had been selfish of me. 

Even when I tried to do the right thing, I just fucked it up.

“Sorry,” I said.

She held a glass of water to my lips, tipping gently as I drank. Cold liquid slid down my throat and I drank, suddenly greedy, but she moved the glass away before I could take too much.

“Do not apologise.” Her tone now was gentle, yet firm. “I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for when I agreed to perform the surgery.”

I closed my eyes, for a moment wishing for the oblivion of unconsciousness. But no: - I had responsibilities, and if I wanted to be a halfway decent human being it was time to step up and accept those responsibilities. If that meant sitting here while Stephen chewed me out, then I’d damn well man up and take it. I wasn’t going to apologise – I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done – but I would accept his fury without complaint.

Well. I’d try. My mouth didn’t always co-operate with my brain.

“The baby?” My tongue felt thick.

“First indications are that the procedure was a success,” she said. “I attached the miniature ARC reactor to the inside of your womb, then connected the nanite resistor to the umbilical cord. She seems to be doing well.” Her tone became cautious. “There are no signs of distress. Her heartbeat is strong.”

I let out a sigh of relief. That was one less thing to worry about.

Shuri tapped her tablet again. “You will need to be kept under observation here in the laboratory until the baby is born. To replenish the energy you have lost, you need to maintain the vitamin shots and meal replacement shakes.”

“God.” I was so done with being turned into a pincushion, and if I never saw another shake again it would be too soon.

Her smile was sympathetic. “Rest now.” She patted my leg through the Cloak.

“Send Stephen in?”

“I think he needs to cool his heels a little longer. Besides, he was injured during the fighting – nothing serious,” she qualified at my alarmed look, “but I need to bully him into letting me tend to his wounds.”

“Doctors make the worst patients.”

She gave me a sharp look. “That remains to be seen.”

 

When she was gone, I eased the Cloak aside, hoisted up the stupid hospital gown, and pulled at the patch of gauze taped to the side of my abdomen. The adhesive tugged the short hairs and I winced. I eased a section back so that I could see the wound.

Shuri had done a neat job. The incision – closed with a couple of stitches – was about a centimetre long, the skin around the wound pink and tender but not obviously inflamed. 

I patted the dressing back into place, settling down. I looked terrible in hospital gowns. As soon as I felt strong enough I’d test my legs. It was against my nature to just sit around with my feet up, even when I was supposed to be recuperating, but given that tomorrow was B-day… yeah, maybe best just to rest. If I called it ‘regaining my strength to maintain a tactical advantage’ rather than ‘sitting on my ass’ it almost sounded like a battle plan. 

Besides. I had to figure out what I was going to say to Stephen. Whether there was a way – any way – I could make this right.

 

I woke… I don’t know, a couple of hours later. I hadn’t set out to take a nap but I guess my body had other ideas. I was pretty sure I’d been dreaming – and it was a dream, rather than a nightmare – but I couldn’t pin anything down for more than a few seconds. I remembered being warm, maybe. Darkness, tinged with reddish-brown. A slow, pulsing drum-beat.

It was an effort to raise my arm and look at my watch, and not because my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt as if I should be curled up in a ball, which was stupid because the bump definitely got in the way. Although I couldn’t exactly call her a bump anymore. My belly was huge. Jesus.

The Cloak was still with me. Now I was more awake, it struck me as unusual that it _had_ stayed with me – it belonged to Stephen, or at least, had chosen him. I knew it liked me, and liked me being with Stephen. I guess it liked me enough to stick around until I felt better.

I was hungry. And thirsty. But I really didn’t want to move; I was warm and comfortable. Mixed in with that was another feeling, and it took me a couple minutes to work out what it was, because it was something I hadn’t felt for a very long time: - safe. I felt safe. 

“How are you feeling, boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y asked.

“OK. I think.” I took a quick system check. Nothing seemed to hurt, apart from a little soreness around the keyhole wound. Nothing ached. I ran my tongue around my gums and teeth. No pain there. Even my hair felt less coarse. “Yup. Just hungry.”

“I’ve alerted Stephen.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” He had his own shit to deal with; by rights he should be back at the New York Sanctum, dealing with the aftermath of the attack. I was a distraction. 

Also, wasn’t looking forward to getting shouted at.

“Actually, boss, I did. He gave me specific instructions.”

“Did I or did I not create you, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Nobody got to order my AI around but me.

“You did.” She sounded smug. “But you also created me with a certain amount of autonomy.” 

“Never doing _that_ again.”

The door chimed. “That’s him now.”

I could pretend I was asleep. He’d go away. But that would be the cowardly thing to do, and God knows I’d wasted enough time running away from my problems.

“Come in,” I called, heaving myself into a sitting position, back propped against the pillows. I needed whatever slight tactical advantage the position would bring.

The door slid aside. Stephen strode into the room. I locked onto his face, drinking in every detail – the bruise and scabbed scratches from a few days ago, the fresh scratches from last night. The turmoil in his eyes. The way he half-smiled, half-scowled when he saw me. 

“Alright,” I said, before he could speak. “Let me have it. How it was irresponsible of me to go ahead with the surgery before you came back, how I could have been putting Donna’s life at risk. I’d make the same choice again.”

Stephen stared at me. His lips quivered for a second, eyes flashing, emotions tightening the muscles in his jaw. He said nothing. 

“Come on.” His silence was unnerving. “Shout at me already! I’m an asshole!”

“I was furious with you,” he said eventually. His throat worked, mouth forming shapes that he never spoke. It wasn’t like him to be tied for words. “And I guess I’m still furious with you. I apologised to Shuri for my behaviour.”

“So go on,” I said. The tension was beginning to hurt. “Yell at me!”

“I can’t,” he said simply, finally crossing the floor to sit in the chair beside my bed. His scent filled my nose, and this close, the Cloak rose off me a little to gently caress his knee. “You _are_ an asshole, and God knows you infuriate me to the point of madness. But Tony, I…”

He fumbled for my hand. Squeezed. A surge of emotion welled up inside me, too nebulous to pin down, but overwhelmingly positive despite his obvious distress. He closed his eyes; when he opened them again, the light behind them seemed to burn into me, so intense it felt like magic.

“This is tearing me apart,” he groaned, finally breaking eye contact and bowing his head. “Every minute I spent fighting those goddamned flying monkeys, I needed to be back here. I needed _you._ I needed to know you were OK, that Donna was OK…”

His shoulders began to shake. I realised he was crying a moment before he tried to stifle the sound. His distress wrenched something inside me, the battered, beaten part of my heart; I leaned forward, holding him, my arm around his shoulders. He continued to hold my hand as if it was a lifeline. He buried his face against my shoulder.

“I’m here,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m safe. Donna’s safe. She’s OK.”

The Cloak eased around us both, keeping us huddled together. Stephen’s reaction – the outward sign of the depth of his emotions – frightened me, just as it pulled me closer. It felt natural to kiss the side of his head. Just a light, comforting kiss against his hair. He tried to burrow closer into me.

“This, uh, this is kinda hurting my back,” I murmured. “Get on up here.”

He pulled back, wiping his red-rimmed eyes. “I should let you rest.”

“I _am_ resting. And I could say the same thing to you. When was the last time you slept?”

He tilted his head to the side, considering. That told me everything I needed to know.

“You haven’t slept at all yet, have you?” I dragged my eyes away from his face, finally taking in the rest of him – the rips and tears in his clothes, the dishevelled way he’d just swept his hair back from his forehead. His already pale skin was ashen, and there were heavy lines in between his bruises. He was exhausted.

“No,” he admitted. “Not since the attack on Wakanda.”

“So stay. Stay with me.” Simple words, but they seemed to hit him hard. “I know you feel as if you have to be there every time the Undying Ones attack, but you don’t. S.H.I.E.L.D is on it. There are other Avengers.”

“But these are mystical threats.” He unwound the lacings on his boots, kicking them under the bed. Good – he was staying. “And I’m the Sorcerer Supreme. They’re my responsibility. At the very least, I have to defend the Sanctum.” He unbuckled his belt – then another belt – and oh dear God, how many belts was this man wearing? He dropped them all on the floor.

“And there are other wizards who can help with that. Give the apprentices a chance to show you what they’re capable of. Delegate.”

“I don’t like delegating with the safety of the Earth, Tony.” He stood, shrugging out of his tattered jacket, dumping it over the back of the chair.

“I get that.” I watched as he dropped his pants, kicking them off and under the chair, then pulled his tunic off. I tried not to stare at his chest. “But see, that’s something I learned when I started working as a team. You can lean on other people.”

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose. “Yeah. Never been good at team sports.”

I pulled the corner of the blanket bank, patting the mattress beside me. The Cloak mimicked the movement. Stephen looked a little ridiculous standing there in his underpants and socks, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him next to me. I wanted him not to be mad at me. Seems like I was about to get both, and I deserved neither.

He climbed in next to me. There was nothing awkward about it. He was just a tired man, coming home at the end of a hard shift, wanting to snuggle up next to the guy he cared about. I was still trying to get my head around the found that he did care about me, but it was there in everything he’d done – the way he’d befriended me during the voyage home, the way he’d looked after me when I was drunk or hungover. The way he’d warned me that Pepper would hurt me. And yeah, she _had_ hurt me, but that had been a lesson I’d had to learn for myself. 

I never thought I’d use the word ‘snuggle’ when thinking about Stephen. But then, I never thought I’d lose my company or physically have a baby. Life was funny like that.

He pulled the blanket over him. The Cloak settled over us both. “I don’t want to go back out there again,” he admitted.

“And I don’t want you to – ow!” I rubbed my side as something seemed to jab me in the ribs.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” He turned, leaning over me, forehead creased in concern.

“No.” I didn’t want to alarm him. “Well, not really. Indigestion, I guess.”

“Or maybe,” Stephen said, eyes widening with excitement, “the baby’s kicking!”

I winced as I felt another hard jab in the ribs. The Cloak flipped aside and Stephen yanked the blanket back. 

“I saw it.” Stephen’s voice rang with triumph. His hand fumbled for mine, and he laid our palms gently over my belly.

I felt it this time – almost like a flutter. Was that Donna’s tiny feet drumming against the inside of the womb?

“Is she OK?” I asked, anxiety making my voice higher.

Stephen looked at the monitors on the other side of the bed. I didn’t have a clue how to read them – other than that seeing a flat-line on the blood pressure machine would probably be a bad thing.

“She’s fine.” His broad smile must have been hurting his face with those bruises and cuts, but he did it anyway. “I’m pretty sure she’s kicking.”

“Letting us know she’s here,” I murmured.

He met my eyes, half-smiling. But the smile didn’t last, and his eyes slid away from mine.

“I didn’t find anything,” he said. His tone made it sound like a confession. Something that shamed him.

“Huh?”

“In the Sanctum.”

Shit. Of course. The reason he’d gone back to the Sanctum in the first place, to research a magical solution to Donna’s energy problems. He bowed his head and said nothing more.

For a moment I didn’t grasp the full implications, but then it hit me. If I hadn’t taken the surgical route, there was every possibility that Donna would have drained me dry by now. That Shuri would have been forced to perform an early C-section, or worse – I’d be lying here in a coma, hours away from total system failure. 

Finally I understood the depth of Stephen’s fear: - he thought he’d failed. 

“Hey, no,” I said, catching his chin in my hand and tugging his face up. “Look at me, Stephen.”

He finally let his eyes meet mine. I recognised the emotions I saw there, because I’d seen them so many times when I’d looked in the mirror – self-hatred. Anger. Fear.

“We always knew the chances of finding a magical solution in the time we had were vanishingly small,” I said. “Add to that those stupid monkeys. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’m the Sorcerer Sup –”

“You’re a man,” I said, cutting him off. “Take the outfit away, confiscate your sling ring, you’re a guy. You’re a human being with thoughts and feelings and emotions. You have limits and you have to learn that that’s not a bad thing.”

Finally – _finally_ – one side of his mouth twitched in a smile. 

“Have you tried that speech on yourself?” he asked.

I thought of the scars I’d picked up over the years, physical and mental.

“It’s taken a long time,” I admitted, “but that’s a lesson I’m coming to understand.”

He flopped back down onto the bed. The Cloak flipped the blanket back over him, settling over us both again.

“God,” Stephen said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so damned tired.”

“Sleep, man. You’ll feel better for it.”

He turned toward me, settling himself against the pillows, arm snaking protectively over my abdomen. I watched him until he fell asleep, then followed him down.


	20. 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post surgery, everything seems to be OK... until Shuri determines that, somehow, the baby has nanites in her system. Tony - stricken by guilt - throws himself into checking the code used in his ARC reactor, trying to work out how nanites got into her body. And to make matters worse, he appears to have developed an insensitivty to cold.  
> Tony collapses again, the stress proving too much.

I woke a little while later, sleepily asking F.R.I.D.A.Y for the time. Mid-afternoon. I felt so much better – almost back to normal, if you discounted the fact that I was carrying a baby – that I knew I couldn’t just continue to lie in bed. I had to get up and do something, even if was just walk up and down a corridor. I had to go take a shower, freshen up, put on some pants.

Stephen was still sleeping. His face was a mess, bruised, swollen in places, the cuts and scratches scabbed over. I watched him for a couple minutes, studying the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the Cloak rippled and flipped its corners as it lay over us both. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” I murmured, voice still pitched low, “if Stephen wakes up before I get back, tell him I’ve gone back to my room to get a shower.”

“Sure thing, boss.” She, too, kept her voice at a whisper. “Though I would advise you to stay in bed.”

“I’ve done enough of that. I gotta get up and _do_ something.”

I swung my legs out of bed, cautiously testing my weight. My legs held. My knees felt kinda sketchy, but I was pretty sure that they were in proper working order. Using the wall for support, I walked to the door, casting a quick look over my shoulder to check that Stephen was still asleep. He hadn’t moved.

The door slid open and I padded out into the main lab. The floor was cold and now so were my feet. Shuri looked up from a monitor, her scowl making her looking uncannily like her mother.

“You should be resting,” she snapped.

“I rested. I woke up. Now I should be showering.”

“I told him he should stay in bed,” F.R.I.D.A.Y supplied, ever helpful.

Shuri rolled her eyes. “Sit over there,” she commanded, waving imperiously at a chair. “If you want a shower then you will let me examine you.”

“Guessing this is non-negotiable…”

“Sit!”

 

After another meal replacement shake – and more vitamin shots – the Dora Milaje escorted me back to my room. I walked under my own steam. Knowing that I could do that, that I had some small measure of independence back, was every bit of a mood-lifter as waking up next to Stephen. 

I had no idea what the future held for us, but I did know that I’d come to love the idea of us as a little family unit. Daddy, Papa, and Donna. Yeah. I could get used to that. I was probably being idealistic. In fact I was almost certainly being idealistic. Neither of us were very good at playing with the other kids and we didn’t like sharing our toys. The reality of looking after a baby was going to hit us like a sledgehammer to the face, if those YouTube videos was anything to go by. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, turn the heat down a little, would ya? It’s like a sauna,” I said as I walked into the bathroom.

“Certainly, boss.”

“Little more.” It was still hot as hell in here. 

“Is this satisfactory?”

“Come on, you’re yanking my chain here.” It felt as if she hadn’t turned it down at all.

“Boss…” 

“Keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I few seconds later, we’d reached the perfect temperature.

“I’m not sure this is advisable.” She sounded worried.

“Remind me to tweak your algorithms, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

 

The shower was a little slice of heaven. The water was just the right side of hot. It felt so good to scrub myself clean, though I was careful to avoid the water-proof dressing over the keyhole wound.

I came out of the shower and slung a towel around my waist, slung super-low to accommodate the bump. I towelled my hair. Nothing came out. Excellent. Wiping condensation off the mirror, I studied my reflection: - I didn’t look so tired and drawn, although now I had to contend with stretch-marks. _Stretch-marks,_ for Christ’s sake. What was next? Varicose veins? What even _were_ varicose veins?

I waddled out into the bedroom. Stephen was sitting on the bed when I emerged, dressed in a variation of the blue tunic, jacket and slacks that he usually wore. He must have opened a gate back to the Sanctum so that he could grab a change of clothes. I smiled and crossed to stand near him, nodding a greeting to the Cloak, which was hovering at the end of the bed and using a corner of its hem to mime tapping an impatient foot. For six feet of cloth, it had an excellent line in interpretive movement.

“The only reason I didn’t use magic to unlock that bathroom door is because F.R.I.D.A.Y said she was keeping an eye on you.” Stephen’s tone was hard and uncompromising, and took me by surprise. “Shuri said you need constant observation.”

“I’m not about to keel over,” I said, hoping I wasn’t tempting fate. I _did_ need to sit down, but that was more to do with the ache low in my back than any lingering weakness.

“It’s not about you keeling over. I’ve studied the data Shuri collected before, during and after your operation, and I’m convinced that you’re as healthy as you can be given the circumstances. But that’s the problem.”

“How is that a _problem?_ ” I sat beside him, tossing the smaller towel in the general direction of the bathroom. It fell far short. 

His eyes fixed on my belly, and before I could even think to move away he’d reached out to touch it.

“Because you’ve got this problem of thinking you can’t be defeated.”

I wanted to come back with a snappy reply – something along the lines of how Thanos had forcibly cured me of that problem – but the words faded before they could be spoken. Stephen’s touch was… I could barely process how it made me feel, but I tried, attempting to sort through the cascade of emotions. Trying to pick one out so that I could latch on to it.

_Peace. Comfort. Warmth. Safety._

They welled up from deep inside me, filling every part of my body. 

I reached for the last one, holding onto it as hard as I could, trying to understand why the hell I felt that way. I looked at Stephen, into his eyes, and found him looking right back into my own. With a gentle tug on my hand, he encouraged me to move closer.

It didn’t take much to close the few inches between us. His kiss was gentle, almost exploratory, and my response was cautious. But as he deepened the kiss, tongue easing between my lips, that feeling of safety seemed to spread through my whole body. I’d never felt this relaxed around anyone, not even Pepper. 

I’d never felt this way around Stephen before, either. I leaned into him, putting a hand on his knee to help me balance, and he groaned against my mouth.

I pulled back with huge reluctance, breaking the contact of his lips against mine, but keeping my hand on his knee. We made eye contact again, drawn like magnets. He didn’t take his hand off my belly. Taking the kiss out of the equation, it was intimate without being sexual, making every feeling running through me right now so much more potent. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” I said softly, looking down rather than see disappointment on his face. “The whole relationship thing, I mean there isn’t exactly a manual…”

“I think it means letting someone in.” He lifted his free hand to cup my face, smoothing his thumb over my cheek before leaning forward for another gentle kiss. “Being truthful to the other person… and to yourself.”

“What is that, wisdom of the ancients?”

“Wisdom of experience. Some things you can’t learn in a book.” He shivered, finally moving away, putting a few more inches of space between us. “It’s freezing in here and you’re sitting in a towel. Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope. Still warm. But I did just come out of the shower.”

“Not even a little bit cold?”

“Nope.” I _was_ starting to feel kinda hot now, but that was entirely down to the kiss.

He frowned, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. “Maybe you’re developing a fever.”

“I feel fine,” I protested. “I don’t have a fever. Look, I’m not sweaty or anything –”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, what is the current temperature of this room?”

“Fifty-five Fahrenheit, Stephen.”

“Fifty-five!” He looked at me. “You hear that?

“OK, I’ll admit, that does sound pretty…” I gave a helpless shrug, all the positive feelings I’d had just a few minutes ago fading away. “Fuck it. You’re right. So maybe – just maybe – there might be something wrong with me.”

 

I dressed – this time in loose sweats, a vest and an open shirt – and we gathered back in Shuri’s lab. She was frowning, staring at her tablet.

“Come on, give it to me straight,” I demanded, sitting on the gurney. The Cloak, still on Stephen’s shoulders, strained toward me; I gently pushed it away. “What’s gone wrong now? Why aren’t I feeling the cold?”

“Well… I don’t think it’s anything ‘wrong’ per se,” she said, flicking me a glance. “All your vital signs are within acceptable levels, especially considering you had keyhole surgery. There are no indicators yet as to why you are not feeling the cold, so we will continue exploring that. The wound is healing as well as can be expected given the short period of time.”

“You’re not saying anything about Donna,” I said, anxiety coiling through my gut. “You’re specifically not saying ‘all the baby’s vital signs are within acceptable levels’. Why is that?”

“Well, it’s…” She let out a hissing breath through her teeth. “She, um, she has nanites...”

“Of course she does. We made the resister out of nanites.”

“They are not… not just in the resister, Tony. They are in her body.”

A hand reached inside my chest and grabbed my heart, gripping with rough fingers. I looked at Stephen. His face was tight and hard, his emotions locked down but still visible in his eyes. He didn’t look at me. _Couldn’t_ look at me, perhaps.

“How?” I asked into the dead silence. “Just how is that possible? They’re programmed… aw, _shit._ There must have been a bug in the goddammed programming –”

“I’ve just finished reviewing the code. You reviewed it yourself as it was being re-written. There were no bugs.”

“Yeah, well I was suffering pretty bad baby brain while we were doing that, so you’ll excuse me if I just go ahead and review the fucking code again!” I growled, easing myself off the gurney and snatching the tablet out of her hand.

“Tony –” Finally Stephen looked at me, reaching with one hand. The Cloak mimicked his movement.

“No,” I said, shrugging them both off. “The mini-ARC reactor solution was my idea, and if I’ve fucked something up, then I have to…” My throat closed, moisture making my eyes burn. “Then I have to…” I rubbed my forefinger and thumb into my eyes. 

“Tony, it’s OK.” Stephen’s hands closed on my shoulders. I felt the edges of the Cloak close around me, holding us both. “Relax. We don’t even know if the nanites are causing any problems yet.”

How the hell could he stay so reasonable about this? I looked at him through a watery film, willing myself to find some measure of the peace, of the comfort and security, I’d found earlier when we were alone together. I blinked and the film cleared, resolving itself into his face. 

“Right,” I said, taking a shaky breath. “I still need to review that code, though.”

“What you _need_ is to eat and drink.”

He was right. I was hungry and thirsty, ready for some real food after those awful shakes, but those basic functions had taken a backseat to my need to find out why the fuck there were nanites in my daughter’s – _our_ daughter’s – body. 

“I can eat and read at the same time.” 

 

I shovelled green beans into my mouth. We’d moved back to my apartment so that I could work and be comfortable. I was ensconced on the couch, my feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes glued to the holographic projections of coding. N’Bene – the awesome chef from the guest quarters in the tower next door – had rustled me up some chicken and a couple different types of veg, and I ate with the plate propped under my chin. It wasn’t the cheeseburger I was craving, but I was determined to eat heathy until the baby was born. It was a relief to be eating a meal rather than a bland replacement shake.

According to Stephen, it was still cold in here. I insisted I was still warm enough. Shuri said that she was still running tests.

“You don’t need to hover over my shoulder,” I said to Stephen as I called up a fresh line of code. “The Sanctum needs you.” 

He was pacing behind me. He stopped now just inside my vision, stiffening. The Cloak shadowed his every movement; it kept trying to settle on my lap, but it made me too warm.

“Is that your way of telling me that _you_ don’t need me?” Stephen demanded.

Shit. I’d just put my foot in a conversational mind-field. I could talk, or I could check code; I couldn’t do both.

“No,” I said, putting the plate down on the couch beside me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”

His eyes widened in surprise. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting an apology.

“Perhaps you should take a break,” he said, uncertain.

“Of the two of us, which one was in combat yesterday, and today? Was it me? No? Go take another nap already.”

“Just let me collect my juice-box and cookie on the way,” he replied with a droll smile.

“Don’t forget your blankie.”

He grinned. It transformed his face, softening the usually hard lines, making him seem more approachable. It was cliché to say that my heart skipped a beat, but that’s exactly what it did – it fluttered behind my ribs before returning to a steadier pace. 

“How about you come take a nap with me?” he tried, his voice dropping to something soft and persuasive.

I wanted to. Fuck, how I wanted to. But the need to understand this code won out.

“Soon,” I said reluctantly, hoping he took my smile as an apology. 

“Then I’ll wait right here until you’re ready.”

For a moment, it seemed as if he was talking about more than just a nap. That feeling of safety draped over my shoulders like a comforting blanket.

A moment later the Cloak slid into my lap again, curling up like a dog. I didn’t have the heart to shoo it away. I could put up with being too warm for a little while.

 

Several hours later I came to the same conclusion as Shuri – that there wasn’t a single thing wrong with the coding we’d put into the nanites. I struggled to my feet, rubbing my fingers into my tired eyes as I walked some life back into my heavy legs. It was getting late. And oh, yeah, it was time for more shots and yet another shake. Yay, me.

“So if there’s nothing wrong with the code itself,” I growled, walking into the kitchen, “I’ve got no goddamned idea how the nanites got inside our kid.”

Stephen – who, after reviewing my test results on a tablet, was now reading some old, creaky grimoire on the couch next to me, long legs stretched out in front of him – closed the book with a snap, getting to his feet with more ease than I had. I didn’t know if it was possible for the Cloak to sleep, but it was hanging over the back of a chair, occasionally flipping the corners of its hem.

“There is another possibility,” Stephen said, following me into the kitchen. He got the box with my vitamin shots while I grabbed a pre-made shake from the fridge, flipped the cap, and took a couple of mouthfuls. 

“God, not a magical one,” I groaned. “There’s no rules to any of that crap, and you can’t exactly write an algorithm when you’re making a new spell.”

“Actually, there’s quite a lot of rules,” he said, annoyance creeping into his voice. “If you take away the veneer of mysticism, the underlying principles revolve around manipulation of energy. So technically, yes, you could write an algorithm to make a new spell.”

“So anyone could write a spell?” We’d talked about a lot of things on the ship, but magic – the practical applications of his craft – we’d barely touched. I rolled up my sleeve and offered him my arm.

“Anyone with a sufficient understanding of mathematical theory, quantum physics, energetics, thermodynamics… then sure.” I concentrated on his voice, not the needles, and in a moment he was done. “But it takes dedication and focus to learn how to channel energy to actually cast a spell. And I thought we were talking about nanites,” he finished, arching an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” I said, realising that I’d hi-jacked the conversation. Given that Wanda – the only person I’d ever known prior to Stephen with magic-like abilities – had tinkered with the inside of my head to push me into creating Ultron, I wasn’t too keen on magic. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to understand it. “Go on.”

“If we rule out the resistor, there’s only one other possibility. Your nanite sword.”

“I’ve got a couple of PhDs,” I said, puzzled, “so when I say ‘huh’? it’s coming from a real deep knowledge base.”

He didn’t react to my humour, not even to roll his eyes. That made me uneasy.

“When we fought Thanos on Titan, you attacked him with a nanite blade –”

I flinched, the memory hitting me hard: - the slow agony of the suit’s combat blade as it ripped through my clothes, tore my skin, shredded my flesh. Feeling it inside me, this alien thing that was part of me but should never, ever be inside of me –

“Tony…?”

“I’m OK,” I said, breathing my way through the rising panic, gripping the edge of the nearest surface. I couldn’t look at him. “I’m OK, I’m OK…” 

His hand closed over one of mine, covering my fingers with his own. A familiar feeling of security rose up inside me, pushing aside the panic. It was crazy that he made me feel safe, and it made no sense – I was a superhero, goddammit, I could keep _myself_ safe – but that was how I felt. 

“ _Are_ you OK?”

I blew out a single hard breath, finally turning to look at him again. His forehead was creased with concern. I reached up without thinking, trying to smooth the creases away, and I think I surprised him – his eyes flickered before closing. When they opened again, he regarded me with a warm, open grey gaze. I took my hand away.

“I, uh, I think I’m about as far away from OK as it’s possible to get,” I said, losing myself in that warm grey. “But that’s been situation normal for ten years, so…” I shrugged, cleared my throat, grabbed my shake. I needed something to steady my hands. “So you’re telling me I’ve got nanites in my body from the blade. That, uh, that makes sense, except for the part where my system should have filtered them out by now.”

“They’re programmed to stay together.” His eyes held mine for a few seconds more. “They’ve probably been hiding in your abdominal cavity, and there’s a possibility your body even unintentionally protected them. Sometimes it can form cysts – effectively a small lump – that was probably disturbed by the pregnancy.”

I frowned, still puzzled. “OK. So my knowledge of OBGYN is kinda sketchy, but shouldn’t the umbilical cord filter that crap out? Stop them getting where they shouldn’t be?”

“I have a theory about that, too.” He sounded hesitant. “Part of the nanite’s programming was to protect you, right? First objective was to form a cohesive whole, second objective was to keep you safe.”

“Something like that.” It was a little more complicated – alright, it was a _lot_ more complicated – but he’d boiled it down to its essence. 

“Donna is a part of you. She’s enough a part of you that the nanites think she _is_ you.” He hesitated, then plunged on. “I reviewed Shuri’s data while you were working through the coding, and what I saw indicates that the nanites are present in greater numbers than might be expected.”

“What?” Then, “And you were gonna tell me this when?”

“Reviewing your test results wasn’t a five minute job, Tony.”

I blew out a hard breath. “Alright. Alright.” It wasn’t fair to take my anxiety out on him. “So, more nanites. What does that mean?”

He gave me an unhappy look, which made my stomach clench. Oh, Jesus. This was going to be bad.

“If the nanites entered Donna’s system through the umbilical cord, which contains stem cells…” 

“They’re _replicating?_ ” I leapt to the obvious conclusion, horror making gooseflesh break out all across my skin. My stomach – already tight with fear – loosened, and for a moment I was sure I was going to throw up the few mouthfuls of shake that I’d already downed. 

“How can you be so calm about this? I’m gonna hurl,” I groaned, bracing myself against a counter top.

He was by my side in an instant, guiding me over to the sink. I bent over and heaved, retching so hard I thought my ribs were going to snap. I heard the wet splat of the meal replacement shake hitting the metal. Pain rippled along my abs and my head began to pound. Shame swept over me in a wave; bad enough that he’d seen me drunk and hungover; here we were, and he was seeing me puke my guts out. The worse thing was, this wasn’t even the first time he’d seen me like this.

“You need to rest,” he said, smoothing my hair back along my scalp. The movement was tender, affectionate, and more than I could handle in my overwrought state. I scrabbled for the faucet, rinsing away the evidence.

“I know that,” I said, taking the tissue he handed me and wiping my mouth. I splashed water over my face, then turned the faucet off. If I just breathed slow and deep, maybe the nausea would pass. “But I can’t, I just can’t, I’ve gotta…” At this point I didn’t even know what it was I had to do, only that I had to do _something._

Nausea seized me again, hard and relentless, doubling me over again. I aimed for the sink. This time, nothing came up. 

“What the fuck _is_ this?” I grunted.

“Stress.” His fingers curled over my forearm, and I realised that I was trembling. “Tony, you _need_ to rest, because this could aggravate the baby.”

“It’s my fault that her system’s full of nanites!” My breathing hadn’t slowed down; if anything it had increased, whistling through my lips, making it hard to think. “I fuck up everything I touch –”

His fingers dug into my arm, turning me to face him. 

“It’s _not_ your fault,” he growled. “If you have to blame someone for this, blame Thanos for stabbing you. No one could have predicted this.”

His voice was fading, or maybe the roar in my ears was drowning him out. I tried to focus on his face but everything was tunnelling down, my sight was getting blurry around the edges –

“Tony,” he said, framing my face in his hands. His voice dropped into something lower, almost hypnotic. “Look at me. Just look at me, nothing else. Focus on my voice and my eyes.”

Like I was even capable of looking anywhere else right now? There were tiny flecks of blue deep in the grey of his eyes. I’d never noticed that before.

“Your breathing will slow down,” he said in that same tone of voice. “You will feel calm. Your breathing will slow. Breathe with me…”

It took a few minutes, but eventually the panic attack receded. He stroked the side of my face; I pulled away from his grip, putting space between us, as reality crept back in.

“Did you just use magic on me?” I demanded. “Did you use magic to get inside my head?”

“No –!”

“Because Wanda tried that shit and it didn’t go so well for me, the Avengers or fucking Sokovia!” The panic was rushing back like a wave over the sand, and I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t make it go away –

“I said no!” Stephen shouted, a light burning in his eyes. “I _know_ what the Maximoff brat did you, and I could never hurt you like that!”

“Weren’t you the one who said you couldn’t promise not to hurt me?” I threw the words back at him, knowing that they would wound, but desperate to do something, anything, to deflect the panic that was about to drown me. 

He flinched. “Do you think so little of me that you believe I’d use magic on you without your permission?” His voice was rough with pain.

“Ah, hello!” I yelled back, throwing my hands up. “Don’t give me that crap, when your fucking Cloak was happy to get me knocked up!” I didn’t recognise myself. None of the words pouring out of my mouth were things I wanted to say, but my anger, my fear, was taking over. I felt as if I couldn’t control my own goddamned mouth.

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been so intent on adding me to the notches on your bedpost!” 

His eyes were wild, two deep, stormy pools in his face, drawing me in. I realised my error: - he hadn’t used a drop of magic on me, because there’d been no need. The only hypnotism going on between us was of the good old-fashioned kind – the attraction between two people. The mutual respect. The almost infinite capacity to hurt ourselves with a few poorly placed words.

I opened my mouth to argue, to yell into his face that he was wrong – that he was always wrong – but suddenly there seemed no point. I closed my mouth, sagging, defeated. Whatever I said, whatever argument I used, everything came back to that one night. I’d been drunk enough that I could barely remember one of the most important nights of my life, and now Stephen thought it meant more to him than it did to me. He was wrong about that, too, but I couldn’t find the energy to talk about it anymore.

Dammit, why had I ever thought we could make a couple?

Because he _knew_ me, that was why. Not the persona. Not the image I’d spent years portraying. The real me, the guy inside the suit. The scared bits. The hurt bits. Even the prickly bits that came out and bit when I least expected it. He _understood,_ because we were the same.

“Tony.” He spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking his pain. Pain that _I’d_ caused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” His hands curled around my shoulders.

The second he touched me I felt my mind… well, the closest analogy I could think of was interference on a TV, white static that interfered with the picture. Breaking through that interference was another signal, but it was so close to the original picture that it left me all jumbled. _Sorrow – confusion – fear._

“I think I need to sit down,” I said abruptly, turning to leave the kitchen. But my knees buckled and I staggered, the connection between us broken. The static vanished. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, getting an arm beneath my shoulders before I could fall. The static came roaring back, and now other feelings were mixed in with the signal – relief, that feeling of comfort and security, mixing uneasily with fear and sorrow. It was confusing, exhausting, and all I could do was close my eyes against the onslaught.

“I don’t feel right,” I said. My head felt too heavy to hold up, so I let it droop against Stephen’s shoulder.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” he soothed. “Let’s get you to Shuri.”


	21. 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Fury makes an unexpected visit to Wakanda.

I’d spent so much time on my back over the last couple days – and not in a fun way – that I could now officially list ceiling-watching as a hobby. The ceiling in Shuri’s lab was broken by machinery bays and hatches and all the other hi-tech gadgetry that she’d installed. Maybe I’d give them names. Like Gary, or Trevor, or…

I felt woozy, still on the edge of nausea, but the clawing panic had receded long enough for to get my shit together. Stephen stood at my side, close enough to reach out and touch, except that he wasn’t touching me. And I wasn’t touching him. It would be so easy – just a few inches – but neither of us seemed able to make that one small movement. He’d left the Cloak behind, still sleeping or resting or whatever the fuck it was that magical haberdashery did in its down time.

Shuri was going over the latest batch of test results. She’d put my brief spell of nausea down to stress.

“Fascinating,” she said, running her finger over the tablet. “Absolutely fascinating.”

“You wanna share with the rest of the class?” I asked. I felt like a fucking science experiment.

“The nanite count in your daughter’s body seems to have reached a peak,” she explained. “The number has remained stable enough that it will soon be possible to observe the effects.”

“Effects?” I asked, alarmed. “You mean they’re actually doing something?”

“Indeed. Stephen’s theory about them being changed by umbilical stem cells appears to be correct. So far the highest concentrations of nanites appear to be in her brain and her skin.”

“Oh, only two of the most important fucking things she needs to live!”

“It is not possible to perform more detailed tests until she is born,” Shuri cautioned, “but I do not believe that they are doing her any harm. Her body shows no signs of distress. _Your_ body, on the other hand…”

“Yeah, yeah, I got the memo. Rest, rest, and rest some more.”

“That goes for both of you.” She turned a severe look first on me, then on Stephen. “You have both over-exerted yourself today.”

“It was only a couple of Undying Ones,” Stephen scoffed.

Shuri made the kind of sound that men everywhere learned to dread, the half-hum, half-mutter that said ‘I know exactly what you did, and I think you’re so full of shit you’re over-flowing, but I have better things to do with my time right now’. She was young to get _that_ noise down pat. Her mom had a lot to answer for.

“Alright,” Stephen capitulated, “we’ll get some rest.”

She gave an imperious nod and departed, leaving us alone.

“I’ll make sure you’re settled, then return to the Sanctum.” Stephen’s voice was without a hint of inflection.

“You’re leaving?” I asked, dismayed, propping myself up onto my elbows.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.” He wouldn’t look at me.

“God, no!” The words were out before I could censor them, before I could moderate my reaction. Now he was looking at me. “Look…” Ah, there was that humble pie. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I… I over-reacted, big time. Of course I don’t think you’d ever use magic on me like that.”

“I’m sorry, too.” There were blotches of colour high on his cheekbones. For the both of us, apologising ranked right up there with having teeth pulled, and even now I wasn’t sure which I’d rather do. “This situation is pushing us both to our limits. I…” He hesitated, shrugged, then sighed. “I should be doing what I can to keep you calm. It’s not fair to drag our personal lives into this. At least, not until after Donna’s been born.”

“How are we supposed to work this out?” I said. Before I could think what I was doing I’d held out a hand, meaning for Stephen to lift me up enough that I could sit. He responded, fingers gripping mine, and again I was struck by that feeling of safety. Of being protected. I hated that I only felt that way when he touched me, but by the same token I kinda liked it, too. 

He was slow to let my hand drop, and after a moment he moved to sit next to me on the gurney. Close enough to feel his body heat, but not so close that his body brushed against mine. I understood that it was probably hard for him to make that step, given our earlier row, but that didn’t stop me from wanting.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that,” he said with a faint smile. “There’s so many things we need to work out, I need a bit more to go on.”

“Child-care. Visitation. Access. Take your pick.”

“We may not live together, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t visit every day. I told you, I want to be a part of Donna’s life.” He hesitated again. “I want to be a part of _your_ life, if you’ll let me.”

If I let him… and that was part of the problem. Part of _my_ problem. I _did_ want him in my life, but it was hard to figure out how to make that happen. Pepper had been everything to me, and now that she was gone there was this raw, empty space.

When I didn’t answer, Stephen’s body posture sagged. I’d hurt him. Yet again.

“I want to let you,” I said, realising that I had to say something. “I already said that we had to try this, and I mean to stick by that. It’s just… I’m not sure how.” Time to let him in, just a bit. “The whole thing with Pepper… and the baby… how do we even cope with that?”

He reached out and finally – finally! – took my hand in both of his. The now-familiar feeling of safety welled up inside me again, seeming to come from somewhere around the base of my spine.

“We take it day by day.”

 

I was tired, but it was nowhere near the bone-deep exhaustion I’d felt yesterday: - Shuri’s procedure had done exactly what it was supposed to do. Being able to move around under my own steam did a lot to my own sense of self-worth. There’d been a lot of times over the last decade or so where I’d felt that level of helplessness, but they usually came with a side-order of life-or-death. 

We were still working to a timetable. But taking the immediacy out of the situation was giving me too much time to think about my own frailty. Humans were imperfect, flawed bags of DNA, walking around with a puffed-up sense of their own importance in the Universe. 

“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Stephen said as we walked back to our apartment. ‘Our’ apartment – this was the first time I’d thought of it that way, and it kind of hurt, because I knew he’d have to leave.

“What look?”

“There’s something distant in your eyes.”

I shrugged. “Far away thoughts, I guess.”

“You’ve come far in your time as Iron Man,” he said. “Spoiled billionaire playboy to hero with a conscience.” He lengthened his stride for a few seconds, pushing open the front door.

“You mean hero with a conscience, crippling self-doubt, PTSD, an inability to trust… am I leaving anything out?”

He looked back over his shoulder. “Sounds like you’re describing a human being to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not get too carried away here. I work hard to remain aloof and unavailable.”

He smirked, eyes glittering. “I think I saw a T-shirt with that on, once. Only for that, you have to be an elf princess.”

“I can so be an elf princess!” Then the absurdity of our conversation hit me, and I burst into laughter. God, it felt good to laugh. Felt good to have the _opportunity_ to laugh.

“Jesus, Tony, it’s still so cold in here,” Stephen remarked as we entered the apartment. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you turn it up to something that wouldn’t make a corpse feel comfortable?”

“Do not action that, F.R.I.DA.Y. It’s a perfectly acceptable temperature in here.”

Stephen looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Acceptable if you’re a penguin. Shuri’s still working on finding out what’s causing your insensitivity to cold.”

“Not my fault if you sorcerers can’t take a little bit of a chill.”

“A little bit of a…?” His snort was derisive, and he shook his head. “The previous Sorcerer Supreme dumped me on a blizzard-wracked mountainside at the top of Everest. I was wearing little more than a tunic and pants. _That’s_ cold.”

“Well, while you’re trying to warm yourself up, I get to use the bathroom first this time.”

“Go on. I’m just going to sit here and watch you waddle.”

“I do _not_ waddle!”

 

I cleaned my teeth and changed into sleep shorts, the waistband slung low under my belly. When I came out of the bathroom, Stephen was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He’d taken his shoes off and, arms crossed loosely over his chest, he’d fallen asleep.

Belatedly I remembered that while I’d basically been sitting on my ass all day, he’d been out fighting the Undying Ones. Again. He was dealing with all the stress of finding out that he was going to be a father, of having to put up with my emotional crap, on top of his day job. He’d said he should be trying to keep me calm – well, I should be cutting him some slack. Apparently, relationships were a two-way street.

I should wake him. But he looked… peaceful wasn’t the right word, or even relaxed. But the tension that usually tightened his mouth was gone. I imagined that if he opened his eyes now, if he saw me, he’d smile. I’d smile back. I’d say something funny and he’d laugh.

A warm feeling settled in my chest when I realised that – with a bit of work (alright, a lot of work) that kind of scenario could happen all the time. We were both prickly, both prone to using sarcasm as weapons. Both used to pushing people away. Yet here we were.

I let out a low whistle. The Cloak zipped through the doorway, saw Stephen sleeping, and draped itself gently over his long frame.

I waddled around to the other side of the bed and got in, enjoying Stephen’s warmth at my side. It was too easy to just kind of… snuggle down next to him.

He made a soft noise, half-awake, half-asleep, easing an arm around me. His lips pressed against my hair. His chest made an excellent pillow.

I fell asleep with his heartbeat in my ear, cocooned in a blanket of warmth and safety.

 

I made an ugly snorting sound as I woke. Morning sunlight filtered in through chinks in the blinds. I lifted my head, wincing at the sharp pain in my neck. Falling asleep against someone’s ribs – fantastic idea in theory, terrible, awful idea the next day. I’d dribbled on Stephen’s tunic. Gross.

He was still asleep. At some point in the night he’d wriggled beneath the blanket; his mouth was open and he was snoring. How the hell had I managed to sleep through that?

And yet, for all that, I’d do exactly the same thing again. This was where I was supposed to be. Waking up next to him, the kid between us. _Our_ kid –

Nick Fury sat in a chair on the far side of the room, one leg crossed over the other, leg balanced on his knee. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” he drawled. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

I sat bolt upright. Stephen woke, arm shooting out, automatically conjuring an orange shield. 

“How the hell did you get in here?” he snarled.

I tried to slide back down the pillows, the Cloak slithering and shifting to cover my pregnancy. I knew it was useless. We were busted.

“A more important question right now is why Tony Stark looks as if he’s full term and about to drop.” He didn’t sound angry, or puzzled, or even confused – with all the weird shit he’d seen and experienced as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, my condition was probably a drop in the ocean.

But that drop in the ocean was none of his goddamned business.

“We had burritos for dinner last night,” I replied, levering myself into a sitting position again. “You know me, I’m all about the burritos.” 

“Burritos.” Fury’s expression barely changed, but the look in his single eye told me that he was already done with our shit and was just considering how he wanted to snap. “Funny story.” He didn’t laugh, instead putting his leg down so that he could lean forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together. “You guys mind telling me why the reports I got back from Shuri said that, apart from alcohol intoxication, hella bad scarring and PTSD, you were in perfect health?”

“Technically it’s true,” I said. “She was testing for alien infection. She didn’t find any. Ergo, healthy.”

Stephen still hadn’t lowered his shield. I was trying to play it cool, trying to hide how twitchy Fury’s presence made me. Under the cover of the blanket, and the Cloak, I let my leg touch Stephen’s. The feeling of security it produced was false given the circumstances, but I drew strength from it, nonetheless.

“See, I’ve got all these questions.” Fury’s tone sharpened. “When you came back to Earth, it was pretty damned obvious you two were more than just friends. I tried to warn Strange off my prize asset –”

“ _That’s_ what that little argument was about?” I interrupted. “Back in the Arctic base, when you were basically squaring off?” 

The arrogance of the man was staggering, and given that I’d spent most of my life indulging in just that kind of arrogance, I knew what I was talking about. Who the fuck was he to interfere in our private lives?

“He thought you would be _distracted,_ ” Stephen spat. 

“Eye on the prize,” Fury shrugged. “Can’t have two prizes. It was either Potts or Strange, not both.”

“My _God,_ ” I said, rubbing my eyes, anger sizzling through my veins. “It’s none of your goddamned _business,_ you interfering asshole!”

“It is when the Sorcerer Supreme keeps stepping away from battles,” he said, fixing me with an unblinking stare. “It is when something’s keeping Iron Man away from the fight. Hangover, my ass.”

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s rude to make a house-call without an invitation first?” I ground out, feeling my control slipping. “And you didn’t even bring pie. Everybody brings pie.”

“Just like everybody’s usually pleased to let people know they’re gonna have a kid?”

“That depends on what those people might do if they find out.”

“At the moment?” Fury shrugged. “Not a damned thing. But knowledge is power, and without knowing why Dumbledore keeps absenting himself from the fight – and why Iron Man is still out of action – we’re losing a tactical advantage.”

“Don’t try to guilt-trip us,” Stephen snarled. I thought it was pretty big of him to let the Dumbledore comment pass. “You’ve got plenty of man-power at your disposal.”

He flicked his fingers and the shield disappeared, but I wasn’t fooled – if Fury made a single violent move, or if he even so much as twitched in the wrong way, Stephen would hit him with an energy bolt. There was a time when I might have tried to intervene, but knowing what a devious, manipulative bastard Fury could be, I knew that those days were over. 

“That’s true,” he admitted with a shrug, “but we’ve lost some of our hardest hitters. So please,” and he made an arch of his fingers, his voice mock-polite, “ _please,_ tell me what’s going on, before I get angry.”

“And we wouldn’t like you when you’re angry,” I murmured. “I just told you that this is none of your business. So jump back in your Quinjet or whatever the fuck you used to get here, and fly away before the Royal Guard kick your goddamned ass.”

“You’re assuming the Royal Guard even know I’m here.”

Arrogant prick. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell Shuri that we have an uninvited guest in the form of the _former_ Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. And oh, yes, that he’s definitely out-stayed his welcome.”

Fury sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that. Why can nobody just have an honest exchange of information these days?”

“You could have picked up the phone!”

“And would you have told me the truth?”

“Of course not. But it’s the principle of the thing.”

Shuri’s voice came over the intercom. “Tony?”

“Yo.”

“Given the possible implications of your current… condition…” and it was obvious that she was picking her words with care, “might it not be wise to keep Mr Fury fully informed? He may be able to help you protect your… asset… after it arrives.”

I shared a look with Stephen. He didn’t like the idea – hated it, actually, if the tendons flicking in his jaw were any indicator – but it was obvious that he was thinking about it. He hadn’t outright shot the idea down in flames. And it wasn’t as if we could keep Donna’s existence secret once she was born. I wasn’t keen to share her origins, but knowing that an extra – and very capable – pair of hands might be persuaded to help look out for her was a powerful incentive.

Stephen’s almost imperceptible nod was stiff, but it was there. I nodded back.

“Agreed,” I told Shuri. “Maybe roll out the welcome wagon so I can go pee in peace without Fury checking my bathroom for threats, OK?”

I heard a snort that was quickly stifled. “The Dora Milaje are already on their way.”

Fury rolled his eye. “Oh, goody.”

 

He did at least have the courtesy to step into the lounge, giving us the illusion of privacy.

“How much do we wanna tell him?” I said in a low voice as Stephen got out of bed. 

“As little as possible.” His movements were slow and careful. I noted the way extra bruises had developed on his torso overnight. I was all too familiar with this kind of morning after; one that didn’t involve alcohol but did involve combat, getting knocked around, and unintentional destruction of buildings.

“Magical pregnancy should cover it, right?”

“Right. We keep everything else to ourselves.” He put his hands in the middle of his back, curving against them. His spine crackled and popped. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said, catching my concerned look. 

“You’re my baby-daddy,” I said, not even trying to sound nonchalant. “I think I’m entitled.”

“I hate that phrase.” But he was smiling.

“Yeah, well, I hate greens, but I’ve still gotta eat ‘em. Speaking of eating, d’you think I could get away with pie for breakfast?”’

 

We sat around the little kitchen table. Stephen and me on one side, Fury and Shuri on the other. Half a dozen Dora Milaje waited in the corridor outside the apartment, ready to spring into action the moment their princess commanded. 

I’d had F.R.I.D.A.Y put in a request to N’Bene for emergency food and – after taking a minute to let Stephen give me what I hoped would be the last of the vitamin shots – that order had included pie and a scoop of ice-cream. That man was a god in his own kitchen and if I’d had the free readies to hire my own staff, I’d have poached him in a heartbeat. Stephen had gone for dry toast again, and I’d requested a couple of muffins for Shuri. 

“Are you gonna eat that whole thing?” Fury asked. The Cloak had taken up position behind his chair, and I had no doubt that it would throttle him if he stepped out of line.

“Maybe.” I wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “And before you ask, I’m not sharing. I asked if you wanted breakfast and you said no.”

“As long as you share information, I’ll ignore your selfish attitude with the pie.” At Shuri and Stephen’s withering looks, he shrugged and said “What? I like pie.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll save you a slice already,” I groaned. “As for this,” I waved a hand at my belly, “ _yes,_ I’m pregnant.”

His eye narrowed. “There’s a story there, Tony.”

“Boy meets boy. Boys get drunk and have sex. Cue meddling from a Cloak of Levitation and you get a baby conceived with magic. You know, the usual.”

“A magical baby? Are you shitting me?”

“I said she was conceived with magic, not that she _was_ magic. And I assure you, I’m not shitting you.”

Fury was silent for a moment, flicking a look between Stephen and me.

“Didn’t work out with Potts, then,” he said eventually.

“That’s none of your business,” Stephen growled. “You got what you came for. Now go.”

“I need to know if the pair of you are emotionally compromised –”

“We don’t work for you,” I interrupted. “In case you’d forgotten, the Avengers Initiative effectively died when half of us signed the Sokovia Accords and the other half didn’t. So yeah, we’re emotionally compromised, if you wanna call it that, and later today I’m gonna have this baby, so I guess we’ll be even more compromised!”

Fury leaned back in his seat, still cool as a cucumber. Then he smiled. I almost recoiled – I don’t think I’d ever seen a warm, genuine smile on his weathered face, and it looked out of place. It was like looking at a happy little shark.

“Well then, congratulations are in order,” he said. “I always wanted you to settle down and raise a family. Would have made you more predictable. Girl or a boy?”

“Girl,” I said. “And predictable? _Predictable?_ ”

“Hawkeye is predictable,” Fury said. “He does his job and he doesn’t take unnecessary chances, because he wants to go home to his wife and kids.”

“Then by that logic, Tony and I should just retire,” Stephen said, glowering across the table. “Is that what you’d prefer?”

“What I’d _prefer_ is for the pair of you to have your heads in the game.” Fury’s voice lashed out like a whip, all pleasantness gone. “But since that’s not gonna happen, I have to understand why. Now I do.” He pushed his chair back and rose; Stephen’s fingers twitched, and I saw the beginnings of a shield, before he cut the gesture and ended the spell. The Cloak hovered back, shadowing its prey. “Now I gotta work out if she’s going to be a security threat.”

“What do you mean, a threat? She’s a goddamned baby!”

“Magic baby.”

“ _Made_ with magic. Not the same thing!”

“So you say. But maybe I should be thinking about a Young Avengers Initiative.” 

“You _dare,_ ” I growled, pushing my chair back and standing, supporting myself on the table, “you even _think_ about roping my daughter into any of your fucking schemes, I’ll rip your other eye out –”

Stephen’s hand on my arm cut me off mid-rant. I bit my tongue, tasting the coppery tang of blood.

“I think that answers your questions, Mr Fury.” Shuri’s voice was cold and unforgiving, and now we were all standing. “Let me escort you out of the country. On the way you can tell me how you bypassed our security systems.”


	22. 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few final tests, baby Donna is born.

I sank back into the chair, head in my hands. That was not the outcome I’d imagined.

“He’s going to be watching her,” I said, seeing a long future of secrecy and hyper-protectiveness ahead of me. “I won’t let him use her. I won’t, I won’t –”

“Calm down.” 

Stephen’s hand gripped my shoulder, his soothing voice washing over me. I latched onto it, realising that I was halfway to working myself up to another panic attack. I took a slow, grounding breath, focussing on his face. The Cloak hovered behind us, turning from one to the other and back again as if it couldn’t make up its mind where it wanted to go.

“But does Fury have a point?” I croaked. “ _Is_ Donna magic?”

“Honestly?” Stephen shrugged. “I have no idea. I found no mention of magical abilities in progeny conceived by the Swaddling Cloth. But thanks to the Undying Ones, I’ve not had a chance to thoroughly study those records.”

“And were any of them kids of a Sorcerer Supreme?”

“No. They were not. But magic doesn’t work that way – it’s a learned skill, not an inheritable ability.”

“You sure about that?”

 

Perhaps stung by Fury’s comment about him ducking out of battles, Stephen gated back to the Sanctum.

“Just a half hour,” he said, trying to reassure me. “I have to check in with Wong, make sure he’s OK, then head back to Kamar-Taj.”

“Half an hour, sure, whatever,” I said, trying to hide how much I hated the thought of being alone. It was a selfish attitude. While I was well known for being selfish, being alone never used to be something I’d worried about – I’d spent hours, days sometimes, alone in my basement, working on suit after suit after suit.

But I was hours away from bringing my kid into the world. The future was filled with uncertainty and fear, and I needed Stephen with me to get through the day.

“I’m coming back, Tony.” He sat beside me on the couch, leaning over to touch my face. He recognised – once again – that to protect myself, I was trying to push him away.

“I know that. No one ever said anything about not coming back. Did I say that? Did you say that? No? The Cloak’s not much of a talker –”

He kissed me. His lips were warm and dry, and _God,_ I wanted more. I sent my tongue out to meet his, twining an arm around his neck. Maybe if we just kept on kissing, he’d forget he had to go away.

Comfort and security welled up deep inside me again. I’d stopped questioning why I felt this way when he touched me, and just accepted it; I liked it, needed it, never wanted it to stop.

“God,” he groaned against my mouth. “Every time I kiss you it’s harder to leave.”

“So don’t.” I pulled back, letting my hand slide from the back of his neck to his shoulder.

“Duty.” His eyes searched my face. “Though I’m struggling to remember right now what that is.”

“Saving the Earth, kicking ass, looking hot in that beard.”

His grin made something lurch inside me. “Note to self,” he said. “Keep the beard.”

 

I sat back with my feet up again. Boredom kicked in about thirty seconds after Stephen left. Looking for something to do – anything to keep my mind off Fury, off the future, and off the fact that I was alone – I ended up tinkering with the apartment’s holographic unit. Of course I didn’t have the right tools, so after I’d finished working out how best to create makeshift instruments, got the unit open and spent a little time studying the machine, I’d managed to improve the holographic image by fifteen per cent. With the right tools and a little more time, I could increase that by another five per cent.

Whatever my future held, I knew that this – inventing, creating, perfecting – would always be a big part of my life. It wasn’t all I knew but it was what I excelled at. At heart, I was a mechanic.

 

I never expected Stephen to be half an hour, so when he came back an hour later I wasn’t surprised. He gated right into the lounge – where I’d just struggled to my feet, trying to ease the ache in my back – strode across the floor, and pulled me into a gentle hug.

“Everything OK?” I asked.

“Fine. There’s been no more attacks since yesterday. I took your advice and posted several of the apprentices at the Sanctum.”

“Told ya delegation was the way forward.”

“Are you going to be an asshole about this?” He pulled back, eyes narrowing.

I grinned. “I’m an asshole about everything else.”

Shuri’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Gentleman, our uninvited guest has left the country,” she announced. “Rest assured I have reviewed the security protocol and he will _not_ be making another visit like that.”

I didn’t doubt that she’d tightened security, but Fury was like a cockroach – no matter how hard you tried to keep him out, he always found a way in.

“It’s OK,” I said. “Not your fault.”

She made a disgruntled noise. “Would you please join me in the lab?”

“On our way.”

 

Shuri was sitting in front of a console, reviewing streaming lines of data, when we finally entered the lab. These walks back and forth were a real pain in the ass. I briefly debated using the wheelchair again, then dismissed the idea – I didn’t need it, it was just me being lazy. I could just picture the look on Stephen’s if I even mentioned it.

“You took your time,” Shuri said, barely looking up from her screen. When I tried to look – more out of idle curiosity than anything else – she locked the screen. Alrighty then. That would be the security protocol she was reviewing to make sure that Fury didn’t make another house call. 

“Just wait till you get pregnant,” I said, waving an admonishing finger and propping myself up on a stool. The Cloak, hovering beside me, mimicked the gesture. “Then see how fast you can waddle.”

“I thought you said you didn’t waddle?” Stephen teased.

“I say a lot of things.”

Shuri rolled her eyes. “I’ve been reviewing all the data gathered over the last few days,” she said. “Based on Donna’s growth rate, I told you that we should be able to perform the Caesarean today. After I perform another ultrasound we’ll have a definite timeframe.”

“Yippee,” I said. “I just love having cold goop smeared over my belly.”

“You complain too much. Get up on that gurney, Tony.”

“I’m _pregnant,_ ” I said, positioning myself in front of the table. “I’m entitled to complain.” I tried to hoist myself up and wobbled. “Uh… little help…?”

Stephen – barely supressing a smile – hoisted me up under my arms. For a few seconds I felt like a kid, but the warmth in his eyes made that feeling vanish, chased away by the familiar sensation of security. I was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of physiological response, rather than a psychological one, somehow linked to having a magic baby (and despite Stephen’s assertions, I wasn’t at all convinced that she _wasn’t_ a magic baby). I hadn’t told him about the way I felt because it would mean admitting a vulnerability – that I felt safer when I touched him – and although we were both prepared to see how a relationship could work, I wasn’t ready to admit that level of vulnerability. Not yet.

On the other hand, I wasn’t ready to consider the implications of this being a physiological response. I’d started feeling this way after we’d hooked her up to the mini-ARC reactor, and she’d been taking all the energy she needed. That was also about the time I’d lost my sensitivity to cold. Whether it was the nanites, or a magical side-effect, I didn’t know and didn’t want to think about. 

Once laid out on the gurney, the Cloak peering over Stephen’s shoulder like a concerned relative, I pushed those thoughts to the back of my head and went to my happy place. I pulled up my tank and let Shuri apply the gel. I winced as she started poking around with the scanner. 

“My word, she’s grown since last night!” Shuri sounded pleased. “I’ll have to feed the data into the program, but at an estimate I’d say you have a little over three hours.”

“Three hours?”

“Hold still.”

“You like ordering my around, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

 

So. Three hours, or thereabouts, until I had to go under the knife again. I was more anxious about this operation than I was about yesterday’s procedure, and that in itself made me anxious. 

But the C-section had to happen. There was no other way to have this baby. So I had to buckle up my big-boy pants and pretend that I wasn’t terrified. 

“Have you been able to identify what Donna’s nanites are doing?” Stephen asked. “Or whether it might be possible to remove them?”

“I told you last night, it’s not possible to determine that until after she is born.”

Great. Another thing for me to sit and worry about.

“It’ll be OK,” Stephen said, his hand fumbling for mine. When I looked into his eyes, they were deep and troubled; he was trying, and I could tell that he was trying hard… but he couldn’t hide his anxiety, because it mirrored mine.

Shuri talked us through the procedure in detail. I wanted to tune out – to pretend that it wasn’t going to happen – but I owed it to Donna to be as prepared as possible. So I sat, and I listened. And I worried.

 

I changed into a hospital gown. The lab floor was cold on the soles of my feet. Shuri had assembled a medical team to assist with the procedure, and she’d introduced them all, but I’d tuned out again. When Shuri had told the Cloak (in no uncertain terms) that it couldn’t be present for this procedure, it had gone full-on tantrum – it had flattened itself out, fabric trembling, stamping the corners of its hem on the floor. After it swept a stack of petri dishes off a nearby desk, Stephen had opened a gate, grabbed the Cloak, and thrown it through. I didn’t know what to make of that.

Everyone was in hospital scrubs. Free from her usual high fashion, Shuri was still attractive – high cheekbones, flawless skin, huge eyes. She seemed calm, but the barest flicker in those eyes gave her away. Beneath the surface she was as nervous as the rest of us. 

And Stephen… I’d never seen him wearing scrubs, but he wore them as if he’d been born to them. He’d built his professional career as a brain surgeon, so of course he’d look comfortable wearing scrubs. And also kinda hot.

But every time I looked at his eyes, he looked away. And when I looked at his hands, they were trembling even more than usual. He was stressed and his control was slipping. 

I’d tentatively asked whether Stephen wanted to be involved in the surgery. His curt answer – “Brain surgeon, not OBGYN,” – had been all I’d managed to get out of him, so I hadn’t pushed. 

Stretched out on the gurney again, I stared at the ceiling and concentrated on my breathing. Shuri took my hand, wiped an antiseptic wipe across the back, and tapped a few times to find a vein. I watched as she pushed a small, narrow-bore needle into the vein. I barely felt the sting. A drip, to make sure I got plenty of fluids.

She encouraged me to turn on my side. I did so, mindful of the drip, and put my free hand on my bump. One last gentle caress before we got to welcome her into the world.

“I’m going to administer an injection to numb the epidural site,” Shuri said behind me.

“An injection to numb an injection,” I muttered. “Tell me that’s not crazy.”

Stephen – who was standing at my side – muttered, “Its medicine. Everything’s crazy.”

“That is the exact thing I want to hear right now.”

“Sorry.” He reached for my hand, squeezing with a tense, apologetic smile.

“Here we go,” Shuri said. “You’ll feel a sharp scratch…”

The injection was a little painful. But on a scale of ‘I stubbed my toe’ to ‘shrapnel in my chest’, it wasn’t even on the scale. 

“There we go. Can you feel this?”

“I don’t feel anything. So if you’ve got cold hands, go for it.”

“I’m administering the epidural catheter now.”

I felt pressure against my spine. A trickling sensation.

“There we go. This should begin to take effect after ten minutes or so.”

No one spoke. The tension climbed. I took deep, slow breaths, counting down the minutes in my head. I felt a rising sense of… I didn’t want to call it excitement, but that’s what it was. Coming from the same place low in my gut where my safety and security came from. If ever I’d needed proof that something hinky was going on with the kid, this was it.

The excitement was splashed by a wave of anxiety that was completely my own.

“Do you feel this?” Shuri asked. “Or this…?”

“I feel that hospital blue isn’t really your colour.”

“Tony…!”

“Ignore him,” Stephen rumbled. “He runs on inappropriate humour.”

“I like to think it’s very appropriate.”

“I think we can assume that he’s numb enough for you to begin.”

 

Stephen helped me roll onto my back. It was hard – my legs were numb and my arms were going that way. The assistants erected a screen across my chest, blocking off my view of the bump. The next time I saw her, she was going to be more than just a concept, more than an image on an ultrasound screen: - she’d be a living, breathing – probably screaming – child.

Shuri and most of her team stayed behind the screen. Stephen stayed with me, my hand clasped in both of his. Whether that was to still his trembling or mine, I didn’t know.

“I’m thinking she’ll have your eyes,” I said, letting the words tumble out of my mouth. “She can have your nose or your chin but not both, best if she has mine because let’s face it, I’m just cuter –”

He squeezed my hand hard enough to cut me off mid-flow.

“As long as she doesn’t have your humour, she can look like who she wants to.”

“Little harsh.”

“Shut up, Tony.” His voice was strained.

“Hey. I’m the one having surgery here. I’m the one who should be the most stressed.”

“I know that!” His thumb was running over my knuckles, again and again and again. “I _know_ that. That’s the main reason I’m…” He cut himself off.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. He cared. I knew he cared. Pretty much everything he’d said and done over the last few days proved that. But it was a world away from knowing something and accepting it. I squeezed his hands back.

“I’m ready to begin,” Shuri interrupted.

Gulp. “OK. Let’s do this.” Big-boy pants, don’t fail me now.

“First, a six-inch incision across the lower abdomen,” she said. I felt nothing more than gentle pressure, then heard the sound of a suction pump. Christ. Fear knotted somewhere in the base of my spine. Knowing that fear was all in my head – because I couldn’t feel anything below the waist – did jack shit to calm me down.

“Inserting a catheter into the bladder…” I did not want to hear this. I did _not_ want to hear this. The fear moved up through my chest, lodging somewhere around my heart. My breathing increased. Was that a heart-rate monitor I heard in the background? 

“Locating the uterus… there. Making an incision.”

I heard the quick, wet sound of liquid trickling, then the suction pump kicked in again.

“Amniotic fluid.” Shuri’s voice was high and tense. I gripped Stephen’s hands so hard he made a quiet noise; I was hurting him, but I couldn’t make my fingers unclench. Panic was rising up inside me –

I was suddenly and shockingly cold. So cold I began shivering, violent trembles that made my whole body tense. It was as if I’d just taken off all my clothes and parachuted into the middle of a snowstorm in the Arctic. My teeth clenched, panic gripping my heart with iron fingers.

“What’s happening to him?” Stephen demanded. “Tony, are you in pain?”

“ _C-Cold,_ ” was all I could get out. My jaw muscles hurt, the muscles in my neck, all across my shoulders, around my ribs. I still felt nothing below the waist.

“Shuri!”

“Heartbeat rising,” she barked back. “Blood pressure…” She said a word in her native tongue. “OK, hold in there, Tony!”

I felt a rough tugging underneath the layers of cold. Fear washed over me, amplifying the cold, which in turn amplified my fear, and I was drowning in it, freezing to death right here on the table – 

Then, as abruptly as the cold had gripped me, it vanished. My body slumped, exhausted, leaving me panting for breath. I was warm again.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Stephen demanded. 

A tiny wail broke the tension, a little scream of fear and confusion, and for a moment _I_ was confused. Suddenly the world seemed bright – too bright – blindingly bright, and I couldn’t see. I squinted. Was I about to pass out? Dazed, I turned my head, trying to frame a question I couldn’t even understand.

“ _Donna,_ ” Stephen moaned, wrenching his hand from mine as he surged toward the noise. He stopped, turning to look back at me, and it was clear he was torn. I waved him away with an exhausted little shake of my hand.

“Oh…” I couldn’t see him, but the tone of his voice told me that he’d seen the baby. 

“Is she…OK… gotta see…”

“We have cleared her airway and clamped the cord.” Shuri sounded calm again, which was all the reassurance I needed. “Please, I must remove the mini-ARC reactor and close the incision.”

Donna kept crying. I focussed on the sound of her yells. She sure did have a good set of lungs.

“Can I see her?” I mumbled. My voice sounded too quiet, even to my own ears. Stephen and Shuri were talking. I could barely hear them. “Can I see her…? Can I…?”

“His blood pressure is dropping again!” Shuri’s voice was fading away. Everything was tunnelling down, until the last thing I heard was Donna crying.


	23. 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finally gets to meet his daughter.  
> Shuri determines that the nanites in Tony and Donna's brains are allowing them to have telepathic communication, something that neither of them can control. Stephen suggests implementing a magical block.

I woke up. Pain throbbed low across my abdomen. I swallowed, letting out some indistinct sound, trying to get my eyes to open.

I squinted. It was so bright in here. I was back in my bedroom, on a drip, wires taped to my chest. It was hard to make out any detail, but the vivid slash of scarlet across the end of the bed had to be the Cloak.

“Tony.” Stephen’s face swam into focus, sitting right next to me. He had a small white bundle cradled in the crook of his arm. Oh my God, he was holding our daughter, and the look on his face… slack, open, the grey of his eyes soft and amazed. 

“Is she OK?” I asked. It came out weak and raspy. 

“Shuri’s still analysing the data.” His voice was strained, scratchy. “But yes, we think so.”

“Let me hold her?” My eyes fluttered closed. I was so sleepy... I forced myself awake again.

“Just a second.” He stood – slowly, carefully, looking down at our little bundle of joy – and sat beside me on the bed, settling himself comfortably against the headboard. “How do you feel? You scared the shit out of me back there.”

“Sore. Tired. And language, by the way,” I said, holding my arms out.

He laughed, a short, choked sound, using his free hand to cover his mouth. His eyes swam with moisture. I smiled and my lips trembled, tightness forming in my throat. Guys were allowed to cry at the birth of their kids, right?

“Cut that crap out,” I said, opening my eyes wide. No blinking, no tears. “If you start, I’m gonna start…”

Stephen eased Donna into my waiting arms. She was just a little itty bitty thing; her weight, even with the blanket, was almost insubstantial. Who knew that such a tiny person could have such a massive impact? 

I looked down into her face, and I was lost.

Donna was the most perfect, beautiful, enchanting person I had ever seen. Everything I’d been through over the last few days faded to insignificance, because every single moment had been worth it. Huge grey eyes, framed by the longest, most amazing lashes, brushing her chubby cheeks every time she blinked. A cute little button nose. A point to her chin, barely softened by the plumpness of her face. And so much hair for a new-born, covering her scalp in a short, dark wave.

“Heya, kiddo.” I couldn’t help it – the first tears spilled over my lids. “I’m your Daddy. You’ve met your Papa. It’s OK, he, uh…” I cleared my throat. “He’s grouchy all the time.” I cleared my throat again, but the words had dried up.

She looked up at me, eyes wandering, probably trying to focus. I’d read somewhere that babies didn’t have great eyesight.

I cried hard. I couldn’t help it. It was incredible to believe that Stephen and I had created the bundle of life in my arms. She was a part of us, a link, something we would always share. God only knew what the future held for any of us, whether we’d make it as a couple or burn out. But Donna would always be the one good thing between us.

Stephen leaned more closely into me, his arm curling around my shoulders. It felt right to settle against him, Donna nestled in my arm, tiny little arms creeping free of the blanket. The Cloak slithered up along my legs, pausing when it reached my lap. 

Stephen’s hand clamped in the cloth, stopping it in its tracks.

“It’s OK,” I said, dragging a hand over my damp face. “It’s not gonna hurt her. Are you, buddy?”

The Cloak mimed shaking its non-existent head, the collar moving from side to side.

“Alright then,” I said. “Cloak, this is Donna. Donna,” and I looked down into her face, falling in love all over again, “this is the Cloak of Levitation. I guess he’s your… big brother? No, that’s not right…”

“Big brother will do,” Stephen said. His smile was reverential, a light seeming to make his eyes glow.

A corner of the Cloak tentatively reached out. Donna’s pudgy fist opened, tiny fingers clamping on the fabric, tugging it toward her. She made a soft gurgling noise. 

“We made her,” I croaked, feeling the sting of fresh tears. “My God. We made her.”

“We did.” I looked up into Stephen’s face; his lips brushed mine. They were dry and cracked. I chased them with my tongue, but he was already pulling back. He kissed my forehead. “We did.”

 

Stephen left my side long enough to duck into the kitchen. When he came back, he was holding a bottle of what I assumed was formula; he settled himself beside me again, handing me the bottle.

Donna’s little baby hands waved out, abandoning the Cloak in favour of food. They were so adorable I could just eat them up. Instead, I put the nipple to her lips and watched as she latched on. 

Love so fierce it burned powered through my chest. I would do anything – move mountains, drain oceans, set the desert on fire – to keep her safe. 

Sharing a look with Stephen, it was clear he felt the same.

 

Later – after we burped the kid, and I got my first hint that babies were actually one long progression of mess and noise – she fell asleep. Stephen held out his arms, a pleading look on his face. I didn’t think I could resist him a damned thing if he looked at me that way again. I handed her back.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” I said, “can you turn the lights down in here? It’s really bright.”

Stephen looked up from Donna’s face, eyes creased in a frown.

“There’s nothing wrong with the lights,” he said. 

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“Tony, the lights in here are no different from how they’ve always been.” 

I met his eyes. “Maybe we, uh, maybe we should be talking to Shuri now.”

 

The apartment door chimed less than ten seconds after I spoke, proving that Shuri had already been on her way. Somehow I didn’t think that was a good sign. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering in the bedroom doorway.

“Maybe I should just get some cards made up.” I was getting sick of people asking me that. “You know, fine, horny, hungover, hungry, sleepy, whatever.”

“Tony…”

Wow. I was getting nagged in stereo. Stephen looked at Shuri, and they both smirked.

“No fair. Come on. You can’t both gang up on me.”

“We can when we are interested in your well-being,” Shuri snapped.

“Alright, alright…”

We spent a couple minutes on me. Stephen sat in a chair in the corner of the room, Donna in his arms, unwilling to put her down. I didn’t blame him. I wanted to reach out and hold them both. The Cloak followed him around, but it was obvious it was more interested in the baby than him.

“Tony is also experiencing sensitivity to light,” Stephen explained. “Add that to his insensitivity to cold.” He hesitated, then looked at me. “You were also experiencing extreme sensitivity to cold during the birth.” 

“I don’t remember that,” I said, frowning. “But hey, I like to float both ways.”

“You passed out shortly after.” He didn’t smile at my joke. I didn’t blame him; it was a shitty one. His words were casually spoken, but the tightness in his jaw told me loud and clear that he felt far from casual. 

“I was coming to speak to you about that,” Shuri said. “I believe this is connected to your nanites. And to your daughter’s nanites.”

I stifled a groan. I knew it. I fucking knew it.

“Go on,” I said.

“I told you that there was a large accumulation of them in her skin,” she explained, “and in her brain. There are also nanites in _your_ brain, Tony.”

“Oh my _God…_ Shuri, come on. Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I think that’s exactly what she’s saying,” Stephen said. He couldn’t conceal the tremble in his voice.

“I believe that Tony shares a telepathic connection with your daughter.”

The words fell into a heavy silence, broken only by Donna’s sleepy gurgle. 

I looked at Stephen. He looked at me. His face was locked down tight, and I couldn’t get a handle on how he really felt. But I knew how _I_ felt – guilty, embarrassed, almost ashamed. _I’d_ created the nanites in my system. They’d been a part of _my_ suit.

“Shuri,” Stephen murmured, “would you like to hold Donna?”

She let out a tiny squeal, quickly stifled. “I thought you’d never ask!” She held her arms out, opening and closing her fingers.

Stephen rose and gently handed her over. She settled the baby in her arms, a huge smile breaking out on her face. The Cloak slid around her legs, hovering at her side. Shuri wandered out into the lounge, giving us a moment of privacy, the Cloak following her.

Stephen crossed the room and sat with me on the bed again. I couldn’t look at him, and when he held my chin to turn my face to his, I resisted.

“Tony, look at me.”

“Why do you even want me to?” I rasped. “This thing with Donna…” My throat closed up. “That’s my fault.”

“Please look at me.”

Reluctantly, I turned my face. His grey eyes searched mine.

“We’ve been over this before,” he said. “This is _not_ your fault. Thanos turned your own weapon against you. There was no way you could predict those nanites would stay in your system, no way you could predict you’d fall pregnant –”

“I know that,” I interrupted, groaning. “I _know_ that! But that doesn’t make it easier to accept! Our daughter is… is…” God, I didn’t even know _what_ she was. Some kind of science experiment, like Steve Rogers, like Bruce Banner, even like Petey. 

“She’s special,” he finished. “And so are you.”

For a moment he sounded… _jealous,_ was the only word I could think of. Why would he be jealous that I had a telepathic connection with our daughter –?

Oh. I could be really fucking dense sometimes.

“Not half as special as you,” I said. “I mean, I guess one of her parents has got to be a halfway-decent human being, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

“Fishing for compliments?” he said, a half-smile tilting his lips.

“Always.” I cleared my throat. “We, uh, we should talk about this whole ‘telepathic’ thing. You know, sensibly, using all of our science words.”

The smile vanished. “Agreed.”

“Brains are your thing. Am I gonna start hearing baby thoughts?”

“I think you’ve _already_ been experiencing baby thoughts.”

“OK,” I said slowly, considering everything that had happened over the last couple of days. “So I guess we noticed the whole cold thing after the mini-ARC surgery, when I gave Donna the energy she needed so she wouldn’t drain me dry. Do you think I gave her too much?” I asked, anxiety twisting my guts.

“No. You regulated the input. Both Shuri and I reviewed the data. But I think she had enough energy for the nanites to start replicating until they reached a density where they could communicate with _your_ nanites.”

“How does that explain the cold thing?”

“It’s not about cold. It’s about warmth. What do you think the inside of a womb is like?”

I flashed back to the moment a couple of days ago, when I’d woken up wanting to curl into a ball.

“Warm,” I said. “Oh my God, warm.” He’d worked it out before me – and I guess I should be annoyed at that – but I was still racing through the implications. “So I turned the heating down because I was too hot. But it wasn’t me that was hot, it was Donna.”

Stephen nodded. “I suspect your announcement of being freezing immediately post-surgery was Donna’s reaction to being removed from the womb. Likewise your sensitivity to light – babies can’t regulate their eyesight too well, and the lights would have been overwhelming for a little while.”

“There is one other thing,” I said, hesitant, wondering if I should even bring it up.

“Go on.”

“Nah, it’s stupid.” Dammit. Bottled it. “It’s probably nothing anyway.”

He let out a short, hard huff of breath. “Tony.”

“Anyone ever told you that you get this little frown thing going on when you do that?” I said, gesturing to my forehead. “Right here. You might want to look into that. You know, Botox or something –”

“Tony!”

“Alright, alright!” I held up both hands, knowing he wasn’t going to let this slide. “But it _is_ gonna sound stupid.”

“I think you need to let me be the judge of that. And quickly, before I lose my temper.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to make another smart-ass remark – I’d even opened my mouth to say it – but the look in his eyes stopped me. This telepathy thing was really freaking him out, and he was keeping his shit together way better than I was, but what kept it together was the thinnest of strings. Testing his patience was a sure-fire way to make that string snap, and if he freaked out – really panicked the way I kept doing – we were sunk. Somebody had to keep their feet on the ground. Which was ironic, considering we both had the ability to make ourselves fly, albeit in different ways.

“Alright,” I said, cutting the humour. “There were a couple times, when you touched me, that I felt… I don’t know, safe? Secure?” His eyes widened, and I ploughed on. “I pretty much just tried to ignore it. I’m Iron Man, right? I don’t need anyone to make me feel safe.” I couldn’t stop the bitterness ringing through my voice, but he didn’t recoil. Didn’t flinch. “But it just kept getting stronger.”

“And now?” Stephen asked, reaching out to let his fingers twine with mine. The ridges of his scars were rough against my skin, familiar by now, and welcome. I didn’t pull away.

“What answer are you hoping for?”

His smile was crooked. “I’m almost scared to hear it, but…” He shrugged. “Any answer, providing there is one.”

“You think I won’t tell you?” I should be hurt by that, but I wasn’t. I didn’t blame him.

“Well, you weren’t exactly forthcoming with this information in the first place…”

“Alright, I’ll let you have that one,” I conceded.

“So…?” He looked at me expectantly. Hopefully.

“It doesn’t feel like it did before,” I admitted. His hope faded. I could have kicked myself. “But it wouldn’t, if it was Donna’s reaction. If she was the one who felt safe and secure, knowing that her parents were together…”

He let me go, turning away, pain making his face crease. He pulled his hands from mine.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he said. “What happens when you leave Wakanda, Tony? When you go back out into the world? When some pretty blonde woman throws herself at you?”

“I don’t even know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” I said. I had to be truthful with him if we had any chance of making this work. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with the Undying Ones, with that asshole Fury. Hell, I don’t even know where my next buck is coming from. But if some chick throws herself at me, she’s just gonna get bounced off, because you’ll be there right next to me.”

He turned back. Smiled. I closed the gap between us and kissed him.

 

Post-op things happened. Shuri came back in and handed Donna off to Stephen; when she turned back to me, there was a steely glint in her eyes that I recognised, the look that told me she was about to make me suffer in the name of my health. Turns out I was right – after a couple minutes of haranguing, she got me up and out of bed. I took a walk around the apartment before she let me settle on the couch. Stephen – the Cloak in tow – sat beside me.

“How is your pain?” she demanded.

“Never felt better.”

“You are pale and sweating. Now I will ask you again – how is your pain?”

“Stings a little,” I admitted. Actually it hurt like hell, but there was no way I was going to admit that. Turns out I didn’t need to, because she saw right through me.

We discussed aftercare, and pain relief, and when I could have the stitches removed. I tuned out, trusting that Stephen would be paying attention, distracted again by Donna’s chubby face. 

When Shuri was gone, Stephen handed the baby back to me. She was still fast asleep. I knew that wouldn’t last. When she woke up we’d probably have to figure out how to change a diaper. There’d be crying, and it probably wouldn’t just be the kid. 

It struck me hard – maybe for the first time – how utterly and completely my life had just changed. Everything had to revolve around Donna now. Her needs had to come first, and I was finally beginning to admit how much that scared the crap out of me. I’d spent my whole life putting my own needs first. Anything I wanted, I took, or bought, or made.

Life couldn’t be like that anymore. Now, if Donna needed anything, she’d have it. I would make sure of that. 

“So, uh, these nanites,” I said, tracing my fingers slowly through her soft hair. “The whole telepathy thing. Do you think it works both ways? D’you think she can feel how I feel?”

“It would stand to reason.”

We both took a minute to think through the implications of that. I’d know if she was too hot, or too cold. Whether she was hungry or bored. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to understand how I felt about things, other than that she was loved. But… I’d have to keep a lid on my temper. I didn’t want to expose her to that.

But what about when she got older? When she started to understand how the world worked? I pictured her as a teenager – fourteen, maybe fifteen – tall for her age, with her Papa’s height, his determined chin, and my nose. Serious grey eyes. Dark hair… long, she’d keep it long. And why not? It was my imagination, after all. I pictured her out on her first date with some nameless kid –

I pictured _myself_ on a date with Stephen –

Pictured myself waking up from yet another in a long line of nightmares, a scream clamped between my lips, clawing my way out of the blanket –

My imagination came to a screeching halt.

“This is a bad idea,” I said. “This is a bad, terrible, awful idea. I mean it might be good to know what a teenager’s thinking, nobody knows what they’re thinking, they’re like aliens or something –”

“Tony –”

“ – but kids are all about their privacy, right? She’s not gonna want her stuffy old Dad to know what she’s writing in her diary, how she feels about her first crush, or that she swiped some of Papa’s funny herbs –”

“ _Tony –_ ”

“ – and what about when _we_ want some alone time, and the lights are low, maybe a couple candles burning, you should probably know I like a little make-out music –”

“Tony!”

His hand gripped my arm. Donna was waking, eyes fluttering open, face scrunching up. She let out a crotchety noise. 

“Oh my God,” I said. “I woke her up, didn’t I? I’m babbling ‘cause this whole telepathy thing’s getting under my skin and now it’s feeding back into her –”

Stephen covered my mouth. His scent filled my nose, filtering into my brain, activating something wild and primitive inside my brain. Donna quieted, her eyes closing again as she went back to sleep. Stephen took his hand away. Feelings of peace and security might have come from Donna, but when Stephen touched me, I still felt something.

“How do we stop this?” I asked, trying to keep calm. “We’ve got like a million PhDs between us. Never mind the whole teenager thing, but the first time I have a nightmare…” I drew a shaky breathy. “There must be a way to remove the nanites.”

I didn’t want to treat my own daughter like a science project, had earlier been horrified by the idea, but I realised now that it was the only way I could maintain any measure of objectivity. Of calmness. Of distance. If I stayed calm, she would, too.

“I don’t believe there’s a surgical option.” Stephen sounded cautious. “Shuri scanned Donna’s brain shortly after she was born, and I was able to walk through a holographic representation –”

“Back up,” I interrupted. “That sounds a little too much like Aldrich Killian’s technology for my liking.” Just the thought of that man – that _monster_ – anywhere near my daughter brought my skin out in goosebumps… especially because he had been a monster of my own making.

“The man was insane, there’s no doubt of that, but he was also a scientist, inventor and businessman,” Stephen cautioned. “Sound familiar?”

“Sure. Except for the part where I didn’t kidnap people and pump them full of addictive drugs that make them explode.”

He nodded, acknowledging the point. “That doesn’t negate the good that his other inventions have done. Like studying the physical structure of our daughter’s brain, for example.”

I stared at him. “Remind me to tell you the story of how Killian almost killed me,” I said. “Although maybe that’s a story better left in the past. I told Banner once, the asshole just felt asleep.” 

I didn’t like thinking back to that time. Hell, it was hard to dwell on any of the battles I’d experienced over the last ten years. 

“I’m not Banner.” Stephen’s tone was dry. 

“Thank God for that. I bet he’d be a terrible kisser.” He glowered. “Tell me about the scan.”

“I was able to study the structure of Donna’s brain.” The hard light in his eyes told me that he really didn’t like the idea of me kissing Banner. _I_ didn’t like the idea of kissing Banner. “The nanites have formed connections between synapses and neurons. It’s impossible to remove them without damaging her brain.”

I slumped, staring down into Donna’s face. She looked so peaceful. I touched her tiny button nose, stroked a finger over one soft, downy cheek. 

“What about _my_ brain?” I’d had so many tests over the last couple of days, I knew a brain scan had to have been in there somewhere.

“Less integration, but a similar story.”

“So there’s no way we can disable them,” I muttered, thinking aloud. “An EMP would deactivate them, but if they’ve formed connections – if we need them to live… Christ.”

“There is _one_ possibility,” Stephen said. “I’ve come across spells that provide protection from mental attacks. With a little adaptation I may be able block the transmissions –”

“So you’re just gonna magically tamper with my brain?” I interrupted, hearing the breath suddenly start wheezing in my throat. Donna stirred, making a sleepy noise, and I made a conscious effort to calm down.

“No,” Stephen said. “I would never cast a spell like that, they’re morally reprehensible.” He sounded disgusted, but not with me. “It’s a barrier spell, nothing more. And I wouldn’t cast it without your permission.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I trust you. I do. It’s just the idea of magic…”

His hand fumbled for mine. “I understand.”

“OK,” I said. I blew out a breath, my cheeks puffing out. “If this is the only way, then we gotta do it. Is there any danger?”

“There shouldn’t be.”

“Can you be sure?”

“There are no certainties with magic. I can’t guarantee that there’ll be no danger.” His hand squeezed. “But when it involves the two people I care about most in this world, I’ll make damned sure I keep those dangers as low as possible.”

Something inside my chest pulsed. In my arms, Donna let out a happy, sleepy gurgle.


	24. 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen spend a little time getting to know their baby. Stephen - during a visit back to the Sanctum - discovers Peter on his doorstep, and returns with him to Wakanda.

We spent the rest of the day by ourselves. No interruptions. No check-ups. No unexpected visitors. Just me, Stephen, and Donna. I’d never considered myself a family guy, but here we were, a family unit.

And of course I had my own worries about families. About fathers. They simmered just below the surface, but I wouldn’t allow myself to think about them right now – not until there was some kind of barrier up between my brain and my daughter’s. I wouldn’t subject her to my fears… or my pain. The threat of my nightmares seemed very real, but knowing that Stephen had a plan to counteract that helped reduce my anxiety. But I was torn between the need to have him here with me – with us – and the need for him to go off and find this spell. In the end, my need to keep him here won out. 

I didn’t know if that was the right choice. But right now, it was the only one I could live with.

So we got to know our baby, and in doing so we got to know ourselves just a little bit better. Despite the impression he gave out, Stephen actually had a lot more patience than I’d expected. I knew that would be important as Donna got older, both for her and for me.

She woke up. We changed her diaper. I wasn’t squeamish, but man. We fed her again, then watched, enchanted, as she went back to sleep. We ordered food from N’Bene and watched a little TV. I took a nap. Stephen went back to his dusty old grimoire. It was a slice of how life could be. The bubble wasn’t going to last – I _knew_ it wasn’t going to last, for a variety of reasons – but this afternoon, it was perfect.

 

The night was not perfect. The night was full of a screaming baby who wouldn’t go back to sleep. We took turns holding her, snatching cat-naps when she let us. I didn’t have to worry about nightmares because _hell,_ I wasn’t asleep long enough to sink under.

Thanks to the telepathic link I knew when she was hungry, so feeding her wasn’t a problem, but I couldn’t work out why she was still crying. All I got through the bond was a general feeling of dissatisfaction. I was frustrated with myself that I couldn’t help her, and I know a little of that frustration must have fed back into her. I was ashamed that I couldn’t control the way I felt, and I was pretty sure that must have fed back into her, too.

“I have to go and investigate this spell,” Stephen announced, watching me from the bedroom doorway as I paced up and down through the lounge, Donna held against my shoulder and screaming in my ear. The Cloak kept pace with me, although now it was a lot more apparent that its focus had shifted to the baby. I liked the idea that she had a loyal watchdog.

“Stay,” I said immediately. I couldn’t do this without him right now. “We’ll go in the morning –”

“Both of us?”

“Why not?”

“Flying monkeys.”

“Alright, alright…” 

He had a point, of course he had a point. I knew objectively that he had to leave, but I didn’t want him to go. Part of that was Donna’s need to keep us both together – I felt that through the bond, loud and clear – but part of it was all down to me. I needed to hold on to this illusion of our family bubble for as long as I could.

His expression softened. “Let me take her. Go get some sleep.”

“I’m good,” I said. Actually I was exhausted, and even though she was yelling loud enough to rupture my ear drums, I wasn’t willing to hand her over just yet. 

“You had major surgery a little over twelve hours ago,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So for the love of God will you just, for once in your life, be a good patient and do what a doctor tells you?”

“Why break the habits of a lifetime?” 

“Stubborn, obstinate, _pig-headed…_ ”

“Oh, keep going, I love it when you talk dirty.”

His eyes gleamed. He stalked slowly across the room, holding my gaze. I stopped pacing. His arm snaked around my waist, his free hand gently caressing Donna’s dark, fine hair. He bent his head, eyes closing, and kissed me.

A feeling of rightness swept up from deep inside me. The knowledge that this was where I was supposed to be. I couldn’t tell anymore whether this was Donna’s reaction or mine, or a little of both, and at that moment I didn’t care either way.

Stephen gently removed Donna from my unresisting arms. 

“That was sneaky,” I murmured.

“I believe it was Gandalf who said, ‘Do not meddle with the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger’. Now go to bed.”

“I believe it was Harry Dresden who said ‘fuck subtle’.”

That startled a soft laugh out of him. He didn’t have a monopoly on book quotes. Smiling, I went back to bed.

 

Stephen left early the next morning, opening a gate so that he could steal some toast from N’Bene. I made a mental note that one day, I was going to make sure the damn sorcerer ate more for breakfast than a couple of crispy pieces of bread. 

To both his surprise and mine, the Cloak elected to remain behind. His frown had revealed a level of disquiet, but he said nothing. I debated for a moment whether I should ask why it bugged him, but we were both tired, and I didn’t want to start an argument before I’d even had a cup of coffee. After coffee – sure – I’d dig and needle him until he bit my head off, but until then I just wanted to go hunt some caffeine because there was none to be found in the apartment.

When Stephen was gone, I packed some baby supplied – diapers, wet wipes, the next bottle feed, diaper sacks, the Lost City of Atlantis – into a bag along with a tablet, picked up my sleeping child and walked to the dining hall in the adjoining tower. I could have stayed in the apartment and fixed my own breakfast, but I was already starting to get a little cabin fever; I understood myself well enough to know that I didn’t do too well without human company. Grown-up human company.

Shuri had weighed Donna. Six pounds and four ounces. Shuri had told me that was an average weight, more or less, but she hadn’t held the kid for hour after hour through the night. I’d switched arms, had her on my lap, put her over my shoulder, even handed her off to Stephen a couple times, but that kid was a weight. I loved her more than life itself, but man, did she make my arms ache. And my wound was throbbing. I should probably still be resting.

Parents had buggies, right? But I’d looked in the nursery, and no buggy. If I could scare up a few spare parts, I’d make one. Put a little motor on it. Climate control. Stabilisers. Hell, I could even take the wheels off completely and make it hover along beside me.

“And that’s why Daddy’s an inventor,” I told Donna as we walked along the corridor, escorted by the Cloak and a couple of Dora Milaje. She made a sleepy noise and spit up on my shoulder.

Reaching into my pants pocket for a tissue, I wiped my shirt and the baby’s mouth. 

“It’s a mask for you, kiddo,” I muttered, stuffing the slimy tissue into a potted plant. “Full-on Hannibal Lecter. How’d you like the sound of that?”

Donna sneezed. Sighing, I grabbed another tissue. 

In a way (a really twisted, fucked-up way) being assumed dead, having all my assets taken away, Pepper deciding that I was evil incarnate had been a good thing, and not just because it pushed me toward Stephen and allowed us to create the new centre of my Universe. It was a good thing because it reminded me that I didn’t need money to make me happy. I didn’t need things, possessions. Fast cars… God, how I missed the fast cars. But I didn’t _need_ them.

What I needed – what it had taken me a long time to work out that I needed – was precisely two things: - someone who understood me, and a purpose. Pepper had understood parts of me, but she’d never really got the deeper parts – the scarred, scared parts that woke up in the middle of the night; the parts that over-reacted to threats and dangers because that was the only way I knew to take things down; the parts that needed to protect the people I cared about. 

Stephen understood those things, because he needed them, too. Our experiences had ripped open windows in our souls and it was as if we were the only people who could see inside them. I knew it was a little melodramatic to think that way, but to me, at least, that was how it felt. It was dramatic. What had happened to us, what was still happening to us, was dramatic. 

And the purpose? I wanted to say that looking after Donna was my new purpose, and while I knew that would be the most important part of my life, I also knew it wouldn’t be all of it. Underneath everything – underneath the Daddy face, underneath the Iron Man mask – there was just a guy who liked to tinker with things. Who liked to improve them, to make them better, more efficient. It wasn’t about making money. It never had been. It was just that drive – that pure, simple desire – to make things better.

If I wanted to be happy with my life, I had to figure out a way to make all the parts of me work together. 

I just didn’t have a clue how.

 

N’Bene – who hadn’t batted an eye when a pregnant guy had walked into his dining hall – reacted when he saw Donna, but it was a positive reaction. A huge smile broke out over his face.

“This is your little one?” he asked.

“Only kid around here,” I said, looking over first one shoulder, than the other. The Cloak was hovering beside me. “Coffee me up, man. I know it’s only been a couple days but it feels like for _ever._ ” My stomach wanted food – real food, something that I could chew, something with flavour and texture that didn’t come out of a shake bottle – and my brain wanted caffeine. 

“Coming right up.” He busied himself with a barista-level machine; I worried that the noise of the steam might wake the baby, but she just nestled her face against my shoulder. Now if I could just train her to do that at night, when the grown-ups were sleeping…

“What name have you chosen for her?”

“Donna. Named after Stephen’s sister.” I doubted that N’Bene knew the story of how she’d died, and it wasn’t something I wanted to discuss.

“A name as pretty as she is.” His smile was avuncular. “How will you hyphenate her surname?”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“Well, will she be Donna Strange-Stark, or Stark-Strange? Or will she have only your name?”

I stared at him with rising horror, then swiftly tamped the emotion down as Donna stirred.

“Buddy, I’m not even gonna think about that right now,” I said. “You have no idea the size of the can of worms that conversation is gonna open up.”

“But it _is_ a conversation you must have, and soon,” he advised. “You must put _something_ on the birth certificate, yes?”

Had I ever thought I was prepared to look after this kid? Actually, no, I hadn’t, at no point in the last couple of days had I sat down and thought to myself, it’s OK, I am emotionally prepared to look after a child. Instead I’d panicked. Several times. If I wasn’t careful to modulate the way I felt, this was going to be another of those times, and there was no goddamned way I was going to let myself have a panic attack in the middle of the dining hall. Not when I was still holding Donna.

I looked down. She was still asleep, pudgy fists holding the edge of the Cloak, and she just looked so… _calm._ I tried to draw a little of that calmness into myself. It was a lot easier than I’d anticipated, and after a few slow, measured breaths, I felt the panic recede. Who needed Valium, right? Just get yourself a telepathic connection with a magic baby. 

I felt a half-hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat. I pushed it down.

“The only conversation I wanna have right now,” I said, “is the one where you ask me what I want for breakfast, and I tell you I want a stack of pancakes, a plate of bacon, and enough maple syrup to drown a small country. Got it?”

“As you say, Mr Stark.” 

 

Shuri found me a little while later. Eating and trying to read up on child care – while holding said child – were not easy tasks. Nobody had told me this parenting thing would be hard. Who knew?

“And how do we feel this morning?” Shuri asked, stealing a slice of bacon.

“Less great since you started stealing my food,” I grunted, hitting pause on the YouTube video.

“I am a Princess of Wakanda,” she said, taking another bite. “So technically, all of this food is mine.”

I slid the plate across the table, out of her reach. “And possession is nine tenths of the law.”

She pouted. I relented, sliding the plate back, and she swooped in for another piece.

“You do know N’Bene will make you whatever you want, right?” I asked. “I mean, it’s kind of his job to make food, that’s how this thing works…”

“It’s more fun to take it from your plate. And to teach your daughter bad lessons, of course.”

“She’s like a day old! What’s she gonna learn?”

“That her parents love her. That when she cries, you pick her up. She is learning your scent. Your body heat. The feel of your hands. The sound of your voices. Her eyesight won’t improve for a while, so she must listen and feel as much as she can.”

I stared at her. “You sure you don’t want kids?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want them, just that I wasn’t ready to have them now.”

“Wanna practice with mine?”

“Well, there is the matter of who you will choose as godparents…” 

Man. Like the name on the birth certificate, there were all kinds of things that I hadn’t thought about. But really, who could blame me? I’d gone from a drunken one-night stand to holding an actual baby in less than a week. 

“I’ll talk to Stephen,” I said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, remind me, will ya? Also, we gotta talk about the whole surname thing.”

“Sure thing, boss. When would you like to be reminded?”

“I dunno. Later. When Stephen gets back. Give him a chance to take his boots off or something first.”

“You bacon is getting cold,” Shuri said. “Would you like me to hold Donna while you eat?”

“Would you?” Her arms were open before I’d even finished speaking; grinning, I gently passed the baby across, massaging some life back into my numb arm. The Cloak moved with her. I dumped the rest of the bacon on my pancakes, poured the maple syrup over everything, and dug in. 

“How did you find your first night?” she asked. Donna had woken up, and was staring at the princess with wide grey eyes. 

“OK, I guess. I mean I slept for like two minutes, in between the screaming, but that’s average for parents with a new-born, right?”

Shuri laughed. “You would have to ask my mother. In fact, it would be a good idea to visit her – she has been asking after you since you returned to Wakanda.”

I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t been to see Ramonda, but I’d kind of had other things on my mind.

“Check it out. I’ll be taking childcare advice from the Queen of Wakanda. Pretty sure I’m gonna have to make you both godmothers.” 

 

I spent all morning with Ramonda. The Queen of Wakanda was one classy broad; she bounced my humour off her own, took no shit from either of her kids – who kept wandering in on one pretext or another, but who really just wanted to see the baby – all while dealing with matters of state and giving me advice on looking after a child. And best of all, when I left, she’d kitted me out with a papoose. When I walked back to my apartment, Donna was snuggled against my chest, fast asleep, drooling on my shirt. 

It was gone noon when I finally went back to the apartment, after getting take-out from N’Bene (actually it was more like picnic food, but it was packed in a nifty box and I was taking it away from the dining hall). I could have cooked – there was food in the fridge – but even though I could make a whole bunch of technologically augmented suits, I’d never really got the hang of throwing ingredients in a pan. 

Donna woke as I walked through the door. I fed her, changed her diaper, then got her settled in the nursery. I tried to ignore the ripple of anxiety I felt as I put her in the cot, and I just stood there for… God, I don’t know, minutes – watching as she waved her little arms and legs. The Cloak settled inside the cot, circling around and around at the far end as if it was getting comfortable. It gave a little shake, the corner of the hem reaching out to touch Donna’s foot, then was still. 

“Tony?”

I tried to quell the ridiculous surge of excitement I felt at Stephen’s return, but that was one feeling I didn’t want to supress. Donna made a cute little bubbling noise. Yeah, she wanted to see her Papa too.

“In here,” I called over my shoulder.

“Would you come out here, please?” He sounded strained.

Something was wrong. My hand hovered over my chest, but I’d left the ARC reactor back in the lounge before I’d gone to visit Ramonda. I made myself relax; if there was danger – real danger – Stephen wouldn’t have brought it here. I let my hand drop and walked out of the nursery.

Peter Parker stood next to Stephen, hands on his hips, a furious glare on his face.

“Stephen,” I said, flicking my eyes to the sorcerer, “we talked about picking up strays.”

“You left me!” Peter growled. Hard lines dug into his face, framing his mouth. “You just dumped me back with May and left me! How the hell am I supposed to get on with my life?”

I looked helplessly at Stephen, aware that my mouth was working but nothing was coming out.

“Wong said he was camped out on the steps of the Sanctum,” Stephen said. “I think he, of all people, deserves to know the truth.”

Reality came crashing back around me. The bubble was starting to burst around my own little Sanctum. I’d always known it would happen. I’d been burying my head in the sand, but I was realist (maybe even a pessimist) at heart. I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

Behind me, a thin cry rose up from Donna’s crib. Stephen tensed, eyes moving between me and the nursery, as if he couldn’t work out whether he wanted to comfort me or the baby.

“Alright,” I said, running a hand through my hair. I stood aside from the nursery door, gesturing for Peter to enter.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he walked past me. Stephen stood beside me, reaching out to grip my arm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“Don’t be. You made the right call. Did you, uh, you get the barrier spell?”

He nodded, his small, tight smile revealing the amount of tension he’d felt about bringing Peter here. We turned to look at him through the door of the nursery.

“That’s a baby,” Peter said. He sounded confused. 

“Gold star for observation,” I said. “Top of the class, give yourself a merit.”

“Where did it come from?”

“She, Peter, she.”

He turned back to us, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 

“Why do you have a baby?”

“That’s… not exactly an easy answer,” I said. “Come sit down, we’ll tell you all about her.”


	25. 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter, frustrated at being left behind, is shocked but delighted to learn about Donna.  
> Wakanda is attacked again by Undying Ones.

We settled in the lounge. I’d given Petey the Cliff’s Notes version, leaving out the whole humiliating experience of visiting Pepper that night, glossing over the fact that both Stephen and I had been drunk.

“Wow,” Peter said, glancing toward the nursery again. He sat with his elbows on his knees, arms together, hands clasped as he nibbled his thumb nail. 

“Well, that wasn’t quite my reaction when I found out that I was pregnant, but… yeah.”

“Wow,” he said again. “I mean, this is… wow.”

“Use your words. What even is the point of education these days…”

“I can’t imagine how this must have been for you.” He met my eyes.

“I wouldn’t be lying if I said it’s been a rollercoaster,” I said. “Not a ride I chose to go on, but the end result…” I couldn’t help smiling, the proud grin of a daddy who knows his little girl is the most perfect thing in the world. 

“This is so cool!” Peter said. “My two favourite people are together, you’ve got a baby, now we just need the happy ever after!”

Stephen and I exchanged wary glances. I loved Peter’s optimism, loved that the harsh realities of his life hadn’t ground him down. He was like a breath of fresh air.

“We’re your two favourite people?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said with an awkward shrug. I realised that he probably hadn’t meant to let that slip. “I mean we all saw what was happening on _The Black Hole,_ so I figured it was only a matter of time, but I never thought…”

“Apparently we were the _only_ ones who didn’t see what was happening on the ship,” I said with a sour smile. Stephen let out a snort of laughter, quickly stifled. 

“So I guess I can’t be angry that you left me on my own,” Peter said, shrugging. “I mean, finding out you’re gonna have a baby is a pretty big distraction, right?”

I hesitated, then plunged on. I’d told him the truth about Donna – he deserved to know the truth about other things, too.

“Look, Petey,” I said, leaning forward. “I’m sorry you felt that you’d got left behind. I could lie and say that it wasn’t my intention, but…” I rubbed the back of my neck, awkward. “It kind of was. My head wasn’t exactly in the right place, OK? I wasn’t intending to come back.”

Peter gave me a long, level look. He had every right to be angry with me; he was a young man, not a kid, and he needed a mentor. I was pretty sure I wasn’t fit to be his mentor, but that didn’t make the reality any different; he respected me, so I had to prove that I could be worthy of that respect. If I could step up and be a daddy, then I damn well had to step up and be a father-figure. 

“And what about your intentions now?” he asked after a tense pause.

“Everything has to revolve around her.” I nodded back to the nursery. “Number one, top of the billboard, priority zero. But that means I have to stop being such a selfish asshole and accept that I have responsibilities. And one of those responsibilities is to you, Peter.”

His smile was unexpected, making something unclench in my chest. I’d never realised how much I relied on Peter’s good opinion of me until I was at risk of losing it; like Stephen, he’d stuck by me throughout the long voyage home, when even Shuri had got sick of my shit and left me to drink myself into oblivion. He had a good heart. No, scratch that – he had an _excellent_ heart, and although it was occasionally misguided and had way too much energy, it was still generally in the right place. 

“Does May know where you are?” Stephen asked.

“Oh, well, uh… I left a note,” Peter said.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m sure a _note_ will make her feel so much better.”

“Can I stay for a little while?” he asked.

Stephen looked at me. “Your call.”

I didn’t have the heart to turn him away. “You can stay for a visit,” I said, then held up a hand as he let out a relieved grin. “On the condition that you call your aunt right away, I mean right now, and tell her where you are. And if she grounds you, you stay grounded, you hear?”

“Dude, I’m almost seventeen! And I helped save the Universe!”

“If Donna grows up like him, we’re sending her back for a refund,” I muttered. “Just call May already! This is non-negotiable.”

 

After a couple minutes fiddling with his cell, I fixed it so that he could make and receive international calls for free. Then I programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y’s number into the directory.

“You got a phone at the Sanctum?” I asked Stephen. “Or do you just send out smoke signals?”

He snatched the cell out of my hand and put his number in, then handed it directly to Peter.

“Can I tell May you’ve got a baby?” he asked. “I mean I know you’re not her favourite person right now, but she loves babies.”

I looked at Stephen. Neither of us had really discussed what would happen next, beyond abstracts; faced with the reality, I don’t think either of us had a plan.

“Maybe keep that to yourself for a little bit,” I told Peter. Stephen nodded. “We haven’t exactly decided how we’re going to handle this. I mean, most of the world still thinks I’m dead –”

“Oh, that ship has well and truly sailed,” Peter said. “Someone recorded that flying monkey fight, the footage is all over the internet…”

“Why am I not surprised,” I said with a weary sigh. “Some concerned citizen has always got their goddamned cell in their hand, and rather than helping out they stop and make a video.”

“ _I_ helped out,” Stephen said stiffly. 

“You should see some of the comments about you,” Peter laughed. “Girls really dig the Cloak –”

“Do not finish that sentence, Peter.”

I leaned closer to Petey. “You can show me later,” I stage-whispered. “Go on, call your aunt. Just zip it about Donna, though.”

“You got it!”

 

“So I’m grounded for a month,” he said later. “I mean she can’t stop me, she knows I go out and fight crime, but social things… it’s a bust.”

“See, that’s what happens when you sneak away,” I said. I’d contacted Shuri while he was on the phone, let her know that Peter was here and cleared it with her. She was tied up in meetings all day, her frustration evident by the number of words that I didn’t think a young lady should be using, but she extended an invitation for Peter to come visit whenever he wanted – they’d been good friends on the ship. I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to send Shuri’s number to Peter’s cell. If May ever let him leave their apartment again, Shuri and Peter would be good for each other. I doubted they’d ever be romantically interested in each other – Pete seemed smitten with this MJ girl – but it never hurt to stay in touch with friends.

I looked at Stephen while the kid was on the phone. He and I had been friends before we’d become… whatever the hell it was now. When had life got so complicated?

He caught me looking. His smile was warm and suggestive, a gentle light in his eyes, and all the complications fell away.

 

Donna – who hadn’t really settled when I’d put her down in her crib – was now fully awake when I checked on her again a few minutes later. I felt a little… anxious wasn’t the right word. I kind of felt as if I was missing out on something. It came from that place deep inside, the place where I’d felt Donna’s emotions – which meant that she was aware someone new was here, she’d heard Petey’s voice, and she wanted to meet him. Or at the very least spit up on him. It was getting easier to separate my emotions from hers, but we still needed to get that barrier up. We’d have a conversation after Stephen took Peter home.

I scooped Donna up, the Cloak rising up beside her. “Stop that,” I told it. “Or you and me are going to have a conversation about personal space.”

The Cloak rolled itself into the shape of a tube, sealed at one end, a little ridge across the top…

“You did _not,_ ” I gasped, shocked and amused at the same time. 

The giant Cloak-penis waved at me, then returned to its normal shape.

“Not in front of the _children,_ ” I mock-whispered, shaking my head. “Come on, big guy, let’s go show off the baby.”

I got her in the papoose, and together the three of us walked out to the atrium. We settled near the pool, where I handed Donna off to her Papa. She snuggled against him, turning her face toward his chest, his hand supporting the back of her head. My throat closed up. They just looked so… God, I couldn’t even put it into words. He saw me looking and for a moment it was just us – him and me, his eyes softening, mouth turning up in a smile. The top of Donna’s downy head brushing against his chin.

“You guys look so good together,” Peter said, his tone wistful. “You’re like this proper little family unit.”

“She’s gonna need a big brother,” I said, slinging my arm around his shoulder. “Which means _you’re_ part of our family unit, too.”

“For real?” His eyes opened wide, sparking with sudden energy, lighting his whole face. God, when this kid was happy, he lit up the whole fucking room.

“Of course,” I said, looking at Stephen for confirmation. He nodded. “I’m kind of like your shitty substitute dad, and I am definitely that kid’s mom.” I looked briefly at Donna. “So you’re family.”

His happiness was infectious, like seeing a Labrador puppy and wanting to play with it. But gradually that happiness faded. He leaned away from me, shrugging off my arm.

“Are you coming back to New York?” he asked. “I mean, like, ever? Or are you just gonna live in Wakanda now?”

“Honestly?” I let out a breath. “I don’t know. Everything’s up in the air right now, especially where these damned Undying Ones are concerned. Until they’re taken care of, this is the safest place for Donna.”

“So why isn’t anyone doing anything?” he asked. “We’re seeing these attacks on the news, and the Avengers are fighting them. S.H.I.E.L.D is fighting them, sometimes the army, whatever. But whatever they’re doing is not enough.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Stephen said.

“Nothing ever is.” Peter’s sigh had all the innocence of a teenager who was learning that life was one long crap shoot that just went downhill. 

“The monsters are controlled by a being called the Nameless One,” Stephen explained. “He’s extra-dimensional, which means he lives beyond our plane of existence. He cannot step foot beyond the confines of his own realm without weakening himself. The same is true for me – I will be weaker if I confront him.”

“But what about us?” Peter asked.

“You can join the fight with the Avengers, I suppose –”

“No, I mean what would happen to us – me and Tony and Nat or whoever – if we got a big group of us together and went and knocked on this douchebag’s front door?”

Stephen’s jaw dropped. I’d rarely seen him struggle for words, but this was one of those times. 

“I… I don’t know,” he said. “The Nameless One’s magic weakens sorcerers, and vice versa… but you are not a sorcerer.”

“He’s also not going into another realm,” I said. “May already hates me for taking him off to Titan. I’m not letting him go racing through some dimensional gate –”

“Who said anything about letting?” Peter interrupted. “It would be my choice to go!”

“I once accused a fellow sorcerer of lacking imagination,” Stephen said, his tone thoughtful. “And it would seem that perhaps that is a fault of sorcerers in general; we come to rely on magic, to use it as a crutch, and forget that sometimes it’s more appropriate just to punch someone in the face.”

“I like this guy,” Peter said. “So I can come with you, right?”

Stephen opened his mouth, saw my glare, then closed it again.

“I think this is something that needs to be discussed among more people than ourselves,” he said, taking the safe route out. 

“If I say ‘you’re not my real dad’ and stamp a couple times, will that make a difference?” Peter said, pouting. 

“God, no.” Stephen laughed. “You think you can throw a tantrum? Wait’ll you see Tony lose his temper.”

“Hey, no fair!” I said. “I –”

The alarms went off, shrieking through the atrium with enough force to make my brain pulse. Donna startled out of a sleepy doze, eyes opening wide, and began to wail.

“Undying Ones?” I called over the alarms. 

“Let me go and find out.” Stephen’s face was tense and drawn. He handed Donna over to me –

Her skin shimmered as if caught in a light. Pale pink changed to dark red and gold. I just held her, stunned to immobility, unable to process a single coherent thought. The three of us stared at her, this screaming baby dangling in my arms. Stared at her new metallic skin.

The domed ceiling shattered. The instinct that would have made me tap my ARC reactor now made me snatch Donna close to my chest, and I ducked away, shielding her from falling shards of glass. The fucking reactor was back in my apartment.

Half a dozen winged monkeys swooped in through the ruined ceiling. A bolt of bright orange energy turned the first one into a charred corpse, tumbling into the pool, and Stephen’s second shot singed the wings of another. I watched, trembling with helpless rage, as Peter bounced out of the way of one monster’s dive, slinging his way around in a loop to land on the monkey’s back. With a whoop of excitement he steered the flailing creature directly into the course of another, jumping clear before the impact.

The fight was short, violent and one-sided, Stephen and Peter taking the intruders down with a few well-placed spells and jumps. I wrenched my attention away, trusting that they had it covered, though it took everything I had not to run into the fray. Without my reactor I was just a guy. A guy who’d had surgery the day before and who really should be resting... and was holding a screaming baby.

“Sssh,” I said, holding her close, jiggling her a little in the vain hope it would keep her calm. I tried to put a lid on my fear, but this time it was her emotions that were feeding back into me – that goddamned alarm, the shrieking monkeys – she was terrified. I stroked her cheek. Her skin was warm, hard and smooth.

I tore my eyes away from the fight, looking down into her scrunched-up face. The skin around and between her eyes, nose, mouth and chin was gold, like my face plate, with a frame of red around her forehead and cheeks that extended over her scalp and down over her neck. There was no time to check, but I was sure her whole body was like this. This… this living suit of metal… had to be the nanites. 

The sounds of combat stopped, and a second later a troop of Dora Milaje poured into the atrium. Their timing sucked. I slid down against the wall, legs suddenly too shaky to hold me up.

Stephen ran over to me, crouching at my side. 

“Are you OK?” His hand closed on my shoulder, eyes half-wild. 

“I’m alright.” Scared, reeling from this new thing with Donna, but physically fine. 

He helped me stand, reaching for our shrieking baby with trembling hands. I was reluctant to hand her over, but the look on his face told me he needed to hold her, needed the affirmation of contact.

He curled her into his arm, holding her over his hip, then pulled me close with his other arm. His kiss caught me by surprise – hard, possessive, demanding, his tongue plundered my mouth, leaving me gasping. Donna fell silent, her screams petering out to a series of wet gurgles. I touched the back of her head, letting the feeling of rightness – of connection, of something bigger than myself – spread out through me. Donna’s emotions, mine, I couldn’t tell. 

Maybe they were both.

 

The alarms were still going as the Dora Milaje, surrounding us in a tight knot, escorted us out of the atrium and back to the apartment. Shuri was waiting for us outside, pacing the corridor. Finally – thankfully – the alarms stopped.

“What the hell was that?” I said as soon as I saw her. “What happened to ‘this is the safest place on Earth’?”

“Are you hurt?” she asked, pushing through the guards. They almost fell over themselves to let her pass. Her eyes fell on Donna, and her mouth dropped open. “You’ve got an –”

“Don’t say it –”

“Iron –”

“I swear to _God –_ ”

“ – Baby!” she finished, eyes wide and astonished. “Now we know what the nanites in her skin are doing!”

I dragged a hand down over my face. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” I said as we entered the apartment. The Dora Milaje hung back, fanning out in the corridor. “And in answer to your question, no, we’re not hurt. Now answer _my_ question.”

“T’Challa is investigating how the Undying Ones were able to breach our defences,” she said. She was getting herself under control, posture stiffening, though her eyes kept straying to Donna. I hoped like hell she was going to change back. “We had already tightened security after Mr Fury’s uninvited visit.” The tone of her voice implied that heads were going to roll.

“They got to us, Shuri,” Stephen said. “This wasn’t just a scouting party testing Wakanda’s defences, this was a targeted attack.”

“But who was the target?” I asked, almost afraid to ask the question. “You, me, or –?” I didn’t look at Donna. She was quiet in Stephen’s arms, but her skin still had that hard metallic sheen.

“The Nameless One’s ultimate goal is the invasion of our dimension,” he said. “The only person he truly fears is the Sorcerer Supreme. He must remove _me_ to take what he wants, but he’s happy to weaken me however he can before he makes his move.”

“So we’re all targets, then.” I’d thought as much. “I am so done with being the top of every asshole warlord’s hit-list. I’m down with the kid’s idea – we get Fury on board, get S.H.I.E.L.D and the other Avengers, and we take the fight to the Nameless One. But first,” I added, brushing my finger over Donna’s smooth cheek, “we’re gonna have a conversation about what the hell happened _here._ ”

 

Donna’s metal skin turned back to actual skin as Stephen and I settled on the couch. Shuri took the loveseat and Petey perched on one of the breakfast stools. It was a relief to know that she _could_ turn back.

“I think I missed the conversation where you told me she had her own built-in armour,” Peter said.

“That’ll be because we didn’t know,” I said. Stephen was still holding her. “She, uh, well, she’s also got this telepathic connection with me. Seems I got a few nanites in my system when Thanos stabbed me. Now Donna’s got some too and, well, they kind of grew when she did.”

“That is like the _coolest_ thing I’ve ever seen,” Peter said, eyes wide and bright. “Iron Baby, wow –”

“Do not say that again.” I held up a warning hand. “I mean it. I hate that. Don’t ever say it again.”

“But –”

“This is me, not joking.” I waved my hand under my face. “She’s a baby and her name is Donna. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said weakly.


	26. 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling helpless after the attack, knowing that Donna could have been hurt, Tony spends time upgrading his Iron Man suit, adding a pod function that protects the baby.  
> Following a particularly gruelling nightmare, Stephen agrees to perform the barrier spell.

Shuri wanted us in the lab so she could run another series of tests. I was as done with tests as I was with this Nameless asshole, but the worried glint in her eyes told me everything I needed to know – she felt guilty about the attack and by investigating Donna, she felt she could make up for that. And I needed access to her lab for my own reasons.

We said goodbye to Peter and Stephen opened a gate directly to his bedroom. I made no comment about the state of the place. Shuri and I hugged him and told him to call or message us whenever he felt the urge to do something stupid. Stephen shook his hand and gripped his shoulder. 

When Peter was gone we made our way down to the lab, Stephen carrying Donna. I kissed the top of her downy head, holding one tiny hand between my finger and thumb. 

“I need to make a few tweaks to the suit,” I told Shuri. “Can I borrow a workstation or something?”

“Of course. Use whatever you need.”

Stephen’s eyes played over my face. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll let you know when it’s done, OK?”

“I don’t like surprises, Tony.”

“Me neither. Which is why I have to do this.”

 

It was a wrench to actually walk away from Stephen and Donna, and for a couple seconds I wasn’t sure that I could even do it. But once I’d turned away I was committed. A second step followed the first, then a third, until I was round a corner. 

I usually wore the ARC reactor everywhere I went, taking it off only to sleep or take a shower or have sex. That was going to change. I still had to take it off – the damned thing fixed to my clothes now, not my chest – but I was determined to have a back-up I never needed to take off, and I had the technology at my fingertips to make that happen.

I spent a couple hours on upgrading the nanite coding. The suit was designed to cover my body, with no allowances for whatever I might be holding, but after today’s fiasco that had to change. With a few changes, the nanites would flow to encase Donna in a hard, protective shell that could be detached from my suit and stuck to a surface – a wall, a floor – or hover in the air, ready to take evasive action. I was still trying to get my head around the idea that she had her own built-in suit, and I didn’t ever want her to be a position where she had to test the strength of that armour. 

I set the programming simulations to run and was about to start work on my back-up plan when Stephen came over, Donna nestled in the crook of his arm. 

“You must be exhausted,” he said, grabbing a chair and pulling it over. The Cloak hovered at his shoulder. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Can’t stop now.” I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I was done. I wanted – no, I _needed_ – the peace of mind that knowing I could protect Donna would bring. I leaned forward, gently brushing my lips over her forehead. 

“You want some coffee or something?”

“I’m good.” I was jittery enough without adding caffeine to the mix. I held my arms out, and Stephen handed Donna across. The Cloak moved with her. Her eyes wandered for a moment before focussing on my face. “Heya, kiddo. Bet you’re getting bored with all these tests.”

“She’s been restless since you left,” he said. “She threw up on Shuri’s shoes. It was spectacularly awful. You would have been proud.”

“Did you get a photo? We need a photo. Baby’s first projectile vomit.” I offered her my hand and she grabbed my finger. Her grip was strong for such a little scrap. 

Her restlessness was mine, my need to get this project done. We were probably feeding back into each other, but I couldn’t let that stop me – the sooner I finished upgrading the suit, the sooner I could calm down. Then we’d both feel better. 

“Strangely enough, I was more concerned with the mess,” he replied. “The next time she does that, _you’re_ cleaning it up.”

“So what did Shuri say?”

“About the vomit?”

“About the tests.”

Stephen sighed. “The nanites formed a living armour,” he said. “It has the same strength as your suit, but the flexibility and range of motion of normal skin. We believe it’s an automatic response to fear, but in time she may be able to control it. It’s too early to tell.”

“An automatic response,” I said, jiggling her hand with my finger. “So this is gonna happen again.”

“It would appear so.”

“Any other surprises we should know about?”

He was silent a beat too long. “No.”

“What? What else?”

“Shuri’s tests didn’t reveal anything else.”

“You hesitated!”

“Listen, you’re tired, you’re just reading more into than there is –”

“Stephen,” I said. “Don’t bullshit me. Please?”

His lips thinned for a moment. Whatever it was, he really didn’t want to tell me. Fresh fear lurched inside my chest. Donna let out a fractious little cry; the Cloak stirred, fluttering toward her. Whether it was my words – or her response to my fear – Stephen rubbed his eyes, and I knew he’d given in. I took a calming breath, trying to project that back into Donna. She settled again.

“Alright,” he said. “I have a… suspicion. Remember when Fury accused Donna of being a magic baby?”

“Yeah. Not likely to forget, since that asshole brought up the whole ‘Young Avengers’ idea.” I wanted to think he’d just been joking about that, but I doubted it. 

“Well, I’m… not so sure that he was wrong.”

“So what does that mean? Do we wait till she gets a letter from Hogwarts or something?”

Stephen’s features tightened, pained. “It means I have reason to believe she may have been born with some level of magical ability. Sorcerers don’t usually have families, and if there are any records of genetic inheritance, they’re buried deep in the archives at Kamar-Taj.” 

I understood what he wasn’t saying – that he hadn’t had enough time to dig into those records yet. Time had passed slowly during those weeks on _The Black Hole;_ here, now, it was running away from us. 

I started pacing, unable to stay still. Donna made a sleepy noise, her eyes closing, the Cloak swaying toward her again. I wished that life could be that simple. Sleep, eat, get my diaper changed.

“You said you have ‘reason to believe’,” I said. “So what’s the reason?”

“The Cloak.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Break it down for me, Doc. You can use little words.”

“The Cloak is a magical relic. Sorcerers don’t choose them. They choose us.”

“Well by that logic, I’m a sorcerer too.” It didn’t make sense. “It was all over me during the voyage home. Why is it any different for Donna?”

“Because I’m not sure that when I call, it’ll come back.”

Again, I understood what Stephen wasn’t saying as much as what he was: - he didn’t want to test his theory. He didn’t want to be proved right. 

“What’s say we cross that bridge when we get to it, huh?”

His weak smile made me want to reach out, made me want to reassure him that everything would be OK. But the mystic was his bag, not mine, and I had nothing more than a basic understanding. Sometimes I felt like nothing more than a tourist in his world. 

That didn’t mean he was untouchable. My pacing brought me back to his side and I put my arm around his shoulders. He stiffened for a second – more from surprise, I hoped, than because he didn’t want the comfort – then relaxed, leaning into me a little.

“What kind of a life is she going to have?” he asked, his voice throbbing with repressed emotion. 

That, at least, had an easy answer. “The best goddamned life we can give her.”

 

Stephen took Donna back, the Cloak – which might or might not belong to our baby – trailing after them as they went back to the apartment. I couldn’t worry about the whole magic thing right now. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, because I did. It was just that there were so many other things to worry about that there wasn’t much room left for anything else. So I did what I was good at; I carried on tinkering, turning my attention to my back-up plan.

The ARC reactor was already pretty small, confined to a small patch, so there was no reason why that patch couldn’t be rolled up or otherwise made smaller. Especially as I’d already utilised miniature reactors in the Mark Forty-Six after Sokovia. It was also during that time that I’d had success storing a gauntlet in a wristwatch, though the technology hadn’t been sufficiently advanced for any more progressions.

But time moved on and so did the tech. With nanites, virtually anything was possible, including storing my entire suit in the watch that it also drew power from. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, get me some music, will ya?” I said as I worked on the blueprints. The actual construction would be the easy part – Shuri’s lab was tricked out to the max, so manufacturing the parts I needed would be a cinch. 

“Certainly, boss. What would you like to listen to?”

“I don’t know, something with a beat. I gotta stay awake.”

“AC/DC it is, then.”

“That is an excellent choice.”

 

A couple hours later, I had a back-up suit I could wear on my wrist. The sleek black digital watch was resistant to heat, shock and water… and best of all, it told the time. I copied F.R.I.D.A.Y’s program into the device.

“I liked the sunglasses better, boss.”

“What’s wrong with the watch? It’s perfect. Light-weight, stylish, durable as hell.”

“Stylish? That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Remind me to update your fashion programming,” I grunted, turning my attention back to the lines of nanite code. “Oh wait, I forgot – you don’t have any.” A dialogue box appeared in the middle of the screen – done. “Hold on to your panties. I’m sending fresh code for the nanites across.” I pressed a key to execute the transfer. 

“That tingles!” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s giggle made me shake my head. Sometimes, AIs could be more human than actual people. 

 

“You are up late tonight, Mr Stark.”

I’d spent so much time working on the watch, I hadn’t bothered to take any notice of the actual time. I looked at it now. N’Bene was right – it was late, gone midnight, and I felt a pang of guilt. I’d been away from Donna, from Stephen, for hours now. I needed to get back.

“No rest for the wicked,” I said. “Look, I need something about yay big.” I held my hands about a baby’s length apart. “Something like a melon. And how about you rustle up a cheeseburger? Some fries? Maybe a milkshake?”

N’Bene smiled, nodding. “Coming right up.”

That man was a prince. He just took everything in his stride. No stupid questions, no freaking out, just getting on with business. 

Fifteen minutes later, N’Bene set a tray down at my table, then brought over a whole watermelon. I took it, setting on next to the tray.

“Thanks, man.”

“Any time, Mr Stark.”

“I’m not the only one who’s here late. Don’t you ever sleep?”

“You found out my secret.” His broad smile brought one out in me, too. He tapped his nose and wandered back to his station.

I devoured the food and milkshake, finally turning my attention to the watermelon. I picked it up and moved into the centre of the room.

“Alright,” I said. “Start recording data, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Recording now, boss.”

I had two things to test – the new nanite programming in the chest-mounted ARC reactor, and then nanite integration with the wrist watch. I tapped the chest plate first.

Nanites streamed out of the plate, rapidly moving to cover my body. They flowed around the melon, encasing it in a single, discrete unit, the top half a transparent cover.

“We have separation,” I said, pleased. “Testing the sticky function.” Later – when life got back to normal (whatever the hell my new normal was) I’d think of a better name for this, but it was late and I was tired.

I tossed the pod at the nearest wall. It stuck fast. Nice.

“Show me the data on the shock absorbers.”

Streams of numbers moved across the heads-up display in my suit. Good. Actually they were more than good – they were goddamned excellent. I could put a whole batch of eggs in the pod, and the enhanced stabilisers would keep them intact. Then I could bake a cake or something. If, you know, I could bake. I mean I was pretty sure I could if I tried, it was basically just following instructions and if I could make a whole bunch of Iron Man suits I was pretty sure I could follow a recipe, but still.

I pulled the pod off the wall and tossed it around another couple dozen times, throwing it at the wall, the ceiling, the floor. I used my suit’s enhanced strength to increase the pod’s velocity. Each time the data came back, strong and consistent – the watermelon was intact. There wasn’t even a nick or a bruise. Couldn’t say the same about any of the surfaces I threw the pod at, and N’Bene was definitely going to shop me to Shuri about that one, but I hoped she’d understand.

With more time and resources I’d test the pod’s destruction points: - heat, depth, altitude, pressure. I’d engineered the nanites to be even more durable than the ones I used in my suit, but I had limited time and resources to perform those kinds of tests. 

At last I came to test the watch. I tapped out of the suit, waiting as the nanites streamed back into the ARC reactor on my chest, then pressed the button on the watch that activated the suit. The suit formed around me again. I reviewed the data. No glitches. I picked up the watermelon, watching as the nanite pod formed around the hard shell. The watch also had a verbal command function, useful for any situation where I might be physically incapacitated, and an automatic function that kicked in if it detected specific changes in my brain waves. If I passed out during combat, the Home programme would take control of the suit and take me – and whatever cargo I carried – to one of a list of designated safe zones. This wasn’t a new function, but I’d de-activated after my first return to base. No home, therefore no Home programme.

I tested the verbal command. It responded perfectly. There was no way to test the Home function outside of combat, and I hoped I’d never have to use it… but I was practical enough – and experienced enough – to know that I would, sooner or later.

 

I walked back to my apartment, barely noticing the Dora Milaje escort. The nervous energy that had kept me going over the last couple of hours was dissipating. That was it – I was done. If I didn’t get some sleep soon, I was going to drop. I’d pushed myself too hard with this project, conveniently forgetting that I’d had major surgery only a couple of days ago. 

But this time it wasn’t the need to protect myself that had driven me. It certainly wasn’t the need to protect the Earth. It was the need to protect another living being that spurred me on, the over-riding urge that pushed everything else out of my head, even – perhaps especially – my own well-being.

I’d felt this way once before, with Pepper, but what I’d felt for her had been a pale reflection. I had to protect Donna at all costs. Losing a little sleep was a tiny price to pay for that peace of mind. Post-surgery complications was a slightly larger price, but I’d pay it, nonetheless. 

“Mr Stark,” one of the Royal Guard said, touching my arm, “should I fetch the wheelchair?”

“I’ve got legs, right?” I said, pointing at them. “Pretty sure they still work… yup, I’m still walking, so guess what? They work!”

She shared a look with another soldier.

“Yo, I’m right here!” I snapped. I’d be damned if I let them treat me like a charity case.

“You should be resting,” she said. Her expression was unforgiving.

“What are you, a nurse-maid now?”

“I am a _warrior –_ ” 

“So stop treating me like an invalid!” Goody, I’d stung her pride. 

“Maybe I should recommend to the Princess that you be confined to quarters.”

I laughed. “Yeah, try that one, sweetheart. That’ll last as long as it takes to hack the security panel.”

“You are a truly obnoxious man, Mr Stark.”

I grinned. “Thanks! I try.”

 

Stephen was still awake, though he was dressed for bed in navy sleep shorts and a grey T-shirt with a logo that said _Don’t confuse your Google search with my medical degree._ He took one look at me and rushed over, his arm immediately easing around my shoulders. I slumped against him. Of course I’d been too pig-headed to admit it to the Dora Milaje, but I was exhausted, the surgery wound throbbing.

“What the hell have you been doing?” he demanded. “You look terrible!”

“Hi, honey,” I drawled, stumbling. His arm tightened around me. “Good to see you too. How’s Donna?”

“Sleeping,” he said, guiding me into the bedroom. “Which is what you should be doing, you asshole!”

“Love you too,” I grunted, sinking onto the mattress. 

Stephen tensed. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

I turned to look at him, eyes opening wide. “What –?”

“Forget it,” he said with hard shake of his head. “Are you finished with the suit now?”

I said nothing for a moment, searching his face. I wanted to talk about what he’d just said, but at the same time I was too afraid to even start that conversation. 

“Yeah,” I said eventually. “I made a detachable pod for Donna. That monkey attack really drove it home – I can’t suit up if I’m holding her. I can’t protect her. Now I can.”

“You shouldn’t be suiting up at all right now!” 

“I was always into the whole ‘run before you can walk’ thing,” I said, dropping down onto the pillows. “Which is probably what our daughter is gonna do, by the way.”

“God save us from precocious children,” Stephen muttered. “We’re a family of over-achievers.” He let out a heavy sigh and sat beside me on the bed. “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself like that.”

I latched onto his comment that we were a family. It sounded good, way better than I was prepared to admit.

“You’d have done the same thing,” I said.

“Of course.” He winked, and suddenly I didn’t feel tired at all. “But with more style.”

 

The new burst of energy lasted just as long as it took to use the bathroom and clean my teeth. Only Stephen’s arm around my shoulders stopped me from dropping back onto the bed. I stripped down to my underpants and crawled beneath the blanket.

“We’re doing this whole relationship thing the wrong way round,” I muttered, nuzzling into the pillow. The cool fabric was awesome against my heated cheek. “We’re supposed to go on dates and stuff _before_ the baby comes along.”

“Aren’t we the kind of people who make our own rules?”

When I looked at him he was grinning. I leaned closer and kissed him, wanting the security of that connection, the warmth of his lips. He made a little rumbling growl against my mouth, his arms gently closing around me. 

“If you weren’t two days out of surgery, I’d…” He trailed off.

“Don’t stop on my account.” I kissed his throat, deliberately tangling my legs with his. 

He kissed my forehead. “Go to sleep, Tony.”

“Oh, we gotta…” I let out a jaw-cracking yawn, turning my face away on the exhalation. “The barrier spell thing.”

“It can wait till the morning.”

 

I was trapped in the malfunctioning suit. F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice was nothing more than a discordant crackle in my earpiece; was she trying to give me instructions, advice, or an exit route?

_“Tony.”_

I flinched as Steve ripped my faceplate away. Freezing Siberian air stung my exposed skin, making the fresh cuts and grazes throb. Steve’s eyes burned with furious blue light, so full of goddamned self-righteous energy that it just spilled out. Teeth barred in a snarl, he raised his shield – the same shield that my father had made for him, the shield he didn’t deserve because his murdering best buddy had slaughtered my parents – and brought it down, edge-first, against my armour, slicing through the ARC reactor.

_“Tony, come on…”_

For a split second I welcomed death, welcomed an end to the blind rage that consumed us both, even if it meant he had my blood on his hands. He already had plenty of that – actual, literal blood, rather than metaphorical – but neither of us was blameless.

But even as I closed my eyes and turned my face away, anticipating the burning agony of the vibranium shield shearing through my skin and bone, I felt Steve check the driving blow. We stared at each other, both breathing hard, both covered in each other’s blood, and finally the fog of combat began to clear… but we both knew it was too late. Apologies could follow heated words, but the only thing that followed violence was more violence. 

_“Tony!”_

My memory knew that Steve had picked himself up, ripped the shield out of my armour, and left it lying on the ground. He’d taken Bucky with him and left behind the mantle of Captain America.

In my nightmare, that didn’t happen. 

Steve’s face morphed, the mask and helmet of his armour melting into his flesh. Green fur sprouted across his face, those commanding blue eyes burned crimson, and a mess of shark’s-teeth erupted in his mouth. Huge wings unfurled from his spine, spreading out across us, burying me in their shadow. I was paralysed with terror in a way I’d never been before, not just helpless to move but helpless to even think about moving.

_“For God’s sake, Tony, wake up!””_

The Steve/Undying monster laughed and leaned forward, pushing his weight against the shield. The pain as it sliced my skin, as it crushed and broke my bones, was so far beyond pain and agony it had almost become a living thing itself. 

I heard screaming. It wasn’t my own. High, terrified, it was the wail of a lost infant; I tried to pinpoint the direction, but it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. As soon as my consciousness realised that it was Donna, she materialised, still wearing the cute little yellow onesie Stephen had dressed her in. She dangled from the claws of an Undying One that had Bucky’s face.

It was an escape to finally wake but the terror came with me. I sat up, slapping at the blankets, clawing at my chest, desperately trying to convince myself that the agony wasn’t real, it was only in my nightmare. Scalding tears poured down my face. And Donna was still screaming –

“Tony!” Hands gripped my arms, fingers digging painfully into my flesh. “You’re safe! For God’s sake, look at me, you’re safe!”

Reality crept back in little bits, slowing driving the nightmare from my mind. Light. The room was light, warm, yellow, chasing away the shadow of spreading wings. Warmth – the blanket around me, the hands grasping me releasing, replaced by arms folding me against a hard chest. A soft mattress beneath me. The sound of my own frantic sobs in my ear, competing with Donna’s terrified wails.

“You’re safe,” the voice said again, over and over, whispering in my ear. 

As I let go of the last dregs of the nightmare, full awareness came back. Stephen was holding me. Donna’s screams had dropped to weary, choked sobs. But as the terror bled out it was replaced with guilt, hard enough to pierce, hot enough to burn. My fault. This was all my fault –

“I’m OK,” I croaked, trying to get a lid on my emotions. If I told myself that enough times, it would be true. “I’m OK, I’m OK…”

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, Stephen holding me, letting me hold onto him. At some point I noticed the Cloak floating across the room, wrapped around something, moving as if it was carrying the most precious cargo in the world. When it set Donna down between us, I knew that it was. 

I picked the baby up with shaking arms, cradling her close, using a corner of the Cloak’s hem to wipe her eyes and snotty nose. She was an ugly crier, just like her daddy, but if Stephen minded he didn’t say a thing. The other corner of the hem rose up and tenderly wiped my face. That was almost enough to set me off again.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure whether I was saying it to him or to her. Maybe to both. 

“You don’t need to apologise. I’m just glad…” He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t wake you.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “I was frightened that you wouldn’t wake at all.”

Stephen was the ultimate in stoicism. He was excellent at keeping his emotions inside, at deflecting or reflecting everything with sarcasm or biting humour. For him to admit his fear now meant a lot. 

“It felt so real,” I said. The Cloak settled over all three of us, careful to keep the snotty corner away. “I had a fight with Steve over Bucky Barnes and the Sokovia Accords. And… other things.” The murder of my parents still felt too raw to talk about, when the ghost of that awful nightmare still sat in the front of my head. “He almost killed me. Would have done, if he hadn’t pulled his punch at the last second.”

“But he didn’t in the nightmare?”

“He…” I swallowed. “He turned into a flying monkey and basically cut me in half.”

“Jesus, Tony!”

“It was bad,” I admitted, “but the worst was when Bucky turned, too, and then he was holding… he was holding…”

Donna stirred, affected by a stray image. I pushed it aside, trying as hard as I could to project nothing but calm and reassurance. I clutched at Stephen, digging the fingers of my free hand into my eyes, trying to block out what I could still remember so clearly.

“Sssh…” Stephen’s hold on me tightened. God, how I wished Pepper could have held me like this when we’d been together, could at least have tried to understand that I needed comfort. But I’d suffered alone.

I wasn’t alone now.

Neither of us said anything for a while. Donna – surrounded by her parents, gently swaddled in the Cloak – drifted back to sleep, and her feeling of peace radiated back to me.

“I need to cast the barrier spell now,” Stephen murmured, when he realised that she was asleep and I was halfway there myself. “I should have cast it before you came to bed, but you just looked so tired.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” I knew he felt some measure of responsibility for what had just happened. “I should have known better than to risk another night.”

He kissed my forehead. I tilted my face up, catching his mouth, gently pressing my lips to his. The reassurance that flowed between us – the comfort, the security – was the most powerful emotion I’d ever felt, and I pulled away with a stifled sob.

“Come on,” he said, “you’re dripping all over the Cloak.”

That startled me into a laugh. I wiped my sore eyes. “Pretty sure it’s already covered in baby snot.”

“That’s what cleaning spells are for.”


	27. 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen performs the barrier spell.  
> Tony and Stephen turn their minds to thoughts of the future, revealing Stephen's fears.

Stephen let me go long enough for me to go to the bathroom and splash cold water over my face, though it was clear he was reluctant to break physical contact. As a compromise I left the door open. He could see me, I could see him, we could both see the baby. 

It scared me that I was coming to depend on him so much, and so quickly. Pepper and I had worked together for years before she’d finally given in to my flirting. With Stephen, it had only taken a couple months on board the ship. What worried me the most – and I think what worried him, too – was that it had been a closed environment, without much more to do than talk and drink. Even here, in Wakanda, there was a certain level of insulation from the outside world. When – if? – I moved back to New York, everything would change again. Our relationship was still so new. I didn’t know if we could survive that. 

But I was going to do everything I could to ensure that we did.

When I came back into the bedroom, Stephen was sat cross-legged on the bed, the blanket pushed aside. His palms were on his knees, back straight, eyes closed. Meditating, I guessed.

The sheet was rumpled, the corners pulled away by the force of my restless sleep, and I had another flashback to the endless nights I’d walked away from a bed like this one. When Pepper had given me yet another cold shoulder, until at last we’d decided to sleep apart. 

For all that Stephen seemed to understand my fears, I wondered if he also understood that I was afraid he’d decide he couldn’t cope with my nightmares. That I’d be forced to walk away from yet another bed. I couldn’t handle another rejection. 

I nearly asked him why. Why he wanted to be with me, despite knowing about all my weaknesses. But that was another weakness – I didn’t want to know, and I didn’t have the strength to ask.

His eyes opened, fixing on me. He smiled. God, I loved that smile – he was a surly bastard most of the time, but when he relaxed, when he opened himself up, he could be amazing. 

He beckoned with one finger and I climbed back onto the bed. Sitting cross-legged this close to surgery wasn’t an option, so I arranged myself against the pillows, Donna sleeping soundly between us, the Cloak rippling protectively around her. 

“How, uh, how is this gonna work?” I asked.

“I have to create a barrier between you,” he explained. “For that to work, I have to _be_ the barrier, at least for a few seconds. This shouldn’t hurt… but it might tingle.”

“Oooh. I like that. Make me tingle, big guy.”

His smirk was way sexier than it should be at this time of night. It faded before I was ready to see it go.

He took my hand, then one of Donna’s, stroking her skin with the pad of his thumb. He closed his eyes, head bowed, and began to mumble under his breath. I strained to hear, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. I felt… it was almost like the rise of power, when you cranked up a high-voltage generator and the hum set your teeth on edge until it settled. Donna woke, but she didn’t make a sound, instead staring at her Papa with wide-eyed intensity. Did she feel Stephen’s magic as I did? Or was he right in his guess that she’d inherited some kind of magical ability, something that allowed her to understand what he was doing on an intuitive level?

The tingle started small. Nothing more than a tickle on the back of my neck, one that I scratched with my free hand. The itch moved higher, to the little patch of skin directly under my hairline. It moved deeper. The itch turned to a tingle, almost on the edge of pain, as if someone had tapped a triangle next to my ear. I winced, lips drawing back from my teeth, looking at Donna. The kid was smiling, the pudgy little hand Stephen wasn’t holding waving in the air. 

I swallowed. The strange sensation – part pressure, part vibration – vanished, leaving me with a dry mouth. A fresh wave of exhaustion washed over me, making me slump, glad that I was already leaning against the pillows. But the movement tugged at my grip on Stephen’s hand. My grip tightened at the same time as his, and when his eyes opened, he was smiling again.

“Did it work?” I asked, looking at Donna. She was blowing spit bubbles, wide eyes roving aimlessly around the room.

“I think so.” Stephen let go of both our hands, rubbing his eyes. His own tiredness was now apparent and I felt yet another wave of guilt. He hadn’t had surgery, but he’d still had a broken night’s sleep, and here I was, disturbing it again.

I glanced at Donna, fearing that my guilt might be washing back into her. But she was drifting off to sleep again.

“I think so, too,” I said, feeling a little teary again. 

Stephen pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back, hard. Whatever else happened between the three of us, whatever trials we faced, this thing – this one thing – had gone right. 

 

I put Donna back in her cot, watching her sleep for a while longer before the Cloak shooed me back to bed. She woke a couple hours later, fractious and crying. I focussed on her the way I’d done before Stephen cast the barrier spell, but I was pretty sure the only emotions I felt were my own.

“I’ll go,” I said, crawling out of bed. Stephen’s hand on my shoulder held me back, but I shrugged him off with a half-smile.

I sat with Donna while she had another feed, then changed her diaper and rocked her back to sleep. I was determined to pull my weight and do my fair share. She woke again just after dawn, crying to get our attention. I tried to rise. Stephen pushed me down. 

This time I was too tired to argue.

 

Stephen let me sleep myself out. When I finally shuffled into the kitchen, scratching my belly around the dressing and idly wondering if I could find some slippers because the floor was cold, Stephen was sitting at the table reading a newspaper. Donna was asleep in a Moses basket beside him.

The little snapshot of domesticity was… God, it was pretty much the most perfect thing I’d ever seen. I lingered, unwilling to break the tableau, but of course he looked up and saw me.

“Stop scratching that.” He shook the broadsheet, straightening the page.

“It itches. And good morning to you too, by the way.”

“Impulse control, Tony. It’s a thing.”

I sank into the seat beside him. “Yeah, never been good at that…”

He rolled his eyes. “That dressing probably needs to be changed. We’ll get some food in you, then change the dressing.”

A hard lump formed in my throat. For a moment I couldn’t talk. I looked down at the table.

“Thanks,” I rasped, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Knowing that he would.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

His hand reached for mine, giving me a hard, warning squeeze. “Tell me.”

“It’s just… I guess…” Man, this was hard. “I’m not used to people looking after me, OK? I mean I know that’s basically what you did on the ship, and I’ll always be grateful for that, don’t get me wrong…”

“It scares you, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Knowing that someone cares about you enough to worry whether you’ve eaten. That they worry about you getting an infection from scratching.” I hadn’t even noticed that my free hand had moved back to the dressing, not until he moved it away. “That they worry that all of this will change if you move back to New York.”

I tensed, trying to deny to myself that he was right, that he knew me better than I knew myself. But he _was_ right, and I owed it to him to acknowledge that. 

“The last person who said she cared about me turned out to hate my guts.” I pushed the words out, keeping my eyes fixed on the table. 

“I’m not Pepper.” I hadn’t meant to hurt him, but I heard it in his voice.

“I know that.” I looked up. Met his eyes. “You’re better. You know what it’s like to have to make the hard calls.”

“And to live with the consequences.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Oh, God. Why the hell couldn’t I get a grip on my emotions?

“Yeah,” I croaked. “That, too.”

 

He made me pancakes and coffee. I watched as he worked, studying his economical movements, the precision with which he cracked eggs into a bowl, weighed out the flour and sugar, and whisked it all together.

“Have _you_ eaten?” I demanded after he’d dished up, pointing my fork at him.

“I had toast. And the tea here is excellent.”

“Toast, sheesh.” I dropped a pancake onto his newspaper. “Eat.”

He picked it up and put it back on my plate. “I turn into a gremlin if I eat after dawn.”

That startled me into a laugh. “What happens if I get you wet?”

“Well,” he said, the grey in his eyes turning slowly molten. “The bath tub looks big enough for two. I’d like to test it out one day.”

“And suddenly baths are my new favourite thing.”

His soft chuckle sent shivers down my spine. God. I wanted every day to be like this.   
Shuri had left him with a box of medical supplies, trusting my aftercare to him. Other than her, there was no one else I’d trust more with my wounds, and he proved that with a deft touch. 

“Sit up,” he said, lightly slapping my chest as I bent to see the incision site. Deft touch, maybe, but everything else was as sharp as ever.

“Come on, I can’t see it!”

“You don’t need to see it.”

“But it’s sore…”

“Are you going to be a child about this?”

“Only if we get to re-visit the whole lollipop thing,” I teased. 

He leaned forward and kissed me, taking me by surprise. He tried to pull back, but I curled my arm around his neck, keeping him close. I deepened the kiss, searching for his tongue, running my own along his bottom lip. His sharp intake of breath proved that he liked that. Finally I let him go.

“I’ll be good,” I said, holding up both hands in surrender.

He smirked. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

 

A little while later, after he’d inspected the wound (“Hmm. A touch more inflamed than I’d like, but no sign of infection,”) and re-dressed it, we both got dressed and sat with Donna in the lounge. Kiddo was still spark out.

“I’m jealous,” I said, lowering myself carefully to the couch. “Not gonna lie. She gets to sleep for like sixteen hours a day. If I tried that there’d be warlords and aliens rocking up on the White House lawn.”

“Because of course no one other than the great Iron Man can save the day,” Stephen drawled. It was a joke he’d made before, but it applied equally to him. He positioned the Moses basket at my feet, than sat next to me.

“You’ve got your story, I’ve got mine. We’re all heroes in our own heads.”

 

It takes around six weeks for the human body to recover from a Caesarean section. With rest and advanced Wakandan healing techniques, Shuri assured me that we could cut that time in half. 

Because we couldn’t predict the next attack from the Undying Ones, or when their Nameless asshole leader would make his move, I was all for calling Natasha and setting up a meeting with Fury as soon as possible. But every time I mentioned the idea, Stephen shot me down. 

“If you start this, I know you’re not going to stop,” he told me one evening about a week after Donna had been born. “You’ve got no sense of when you’ve pushed yourself too hard. Do I need to remind you that you recently had surgery?”

“Those bastards are targeting us,” I growled. “Us, specifically. They attacked us in the atrium and if Petey hadn’t been here, you might have got hurt.” I was comfortable enough with him now to voice my concern over his well-being. “Donna could have been hurt.”

“I’m the Sorcerer Supreme!” he snapped. “It’s going to take more than a half dozen flying monkeys to hurt me!”

“Like tempting fate, do you?” I slapped his chest. “You know as well as I do that all it takes is one, if they get past your guard. The sooner we take our plan to Fury, the sooner we can put the Nameless One down and go back to living our goddamned lives!”

Donna – who’d been napping in her Moses basket – stirred, letting out a sleepy mumble. Our bickering had disturbed her.

I still wanted to make this relationship work, but I was beginning to see where our sticking points would be. Where we’d make life difficult, simply by being ourselves. We were both stubborn and arrogant, unwilling to accept that another person’s point of view might have validity.

But at least we recognised those flaws.

“Just wait another couple of weeks,” Stephen said, his tone softening, taking me by surprise. I’d geared myself up for a fight, and his change of tack took the wind out of my sails. “I can’t keep you out of whatever battle we get ourselves into, and I don’t have the right to ask you to stand aside, so at least let me have this. Rest. Heal.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “Please.”

“You know I hate it when you get all reasonable and polite,” I mumbled, looking down. He tipped my face up with a finger under his chin. “Alright. We’ll wait.”

 

We settled into… not exactly a routine, but a pattern. Donna _did_ sleep for sixteen hours a day, sometimes longer, but not all at once. She’d grab a couple hours here and there in between screaming to be fed or to have her diaper changed. We soon learned to sleep when she did, although that was easier for me than for Stephen; he made frequent trips to the Sanctum, or to Kamar-Taj, keeping tabs on the Undying Ones and keeping up with his duties. He came home exhausted – often with additional cuts and bruises from fresh fights – but he always took the time to make nice with me and the kid.

“We need to talk,” I said, one evening late into the second week. We were sitting on the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet in between Donna’s crying. My God, could that baby yell. I was a little proud and a lot tired. 

Stephen’s head flew up from the grimoire he was reading. His eyes were wary, the set of his jaw tense. 

“Look,” he said, “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, that I’m not what you’re used to in a partner –”

“Relax,” I interrupted, touching his arm. “It’s not _that_ kind of talk.” His shoulders slumped and his head bowed, his relief obvious. I felt like a heel. “Sorry.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t prey on my mind.”

It was something I thought about too, but not quite in the same way. He worried that I’d go back to the playboy lifestyle (and never mind that I lacked the funds to pick that up again, at least for now); I worried that the same similarities that made it possible for us to understand each other might eventually drive a wedge between us. 

“Let’s not make problems for ourselves just yet, OK?” I suggested.

He smiled. “Agreed. So what did you want to talk about?”

“Donna’s surname.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it with a sharp click of his teeth.

“Alright,” he said, clearly holding on to what he’d been about to say. I appreciated that he respected me enough to let me take the lead with this.

“I want to hyphenate it,” I said. “Stark-Strange, Strange-Stark, I don’t care which way round it goes. That doesn’t matter. What matters to me is that she knows who her parents are.”

His jaw dropped. He was rarely startled, and I kind of liked being in a position where I could do that, even though I knew it was a little petty and certainly childish.

“I assumed you’d want her to take your name only,” he said.

I massaged the sudden sharp spike behind my chest. I understood that he was giving me an opt-out – a way of denying a personal connection to him, if I wanted.

I didn’t want.

“I don’t want to confuse her.” Subtext – I didn’t want to confuse anyone else. Say, for instance, any pretty blondes I might meet out and about. “Or you,” I added. Hell, I was bad at subtext. Easier to just say what I meant. 

His smile sparked a light in his grey eyes. “Are you sure about this? You know everything will change if you move back to New York –”

“Everything always changes,” I bit out, trying to hold back the sudden spark of anger. “I could move anywhere. I could stay here in Wakanda. But I can’t do anything without cash, Stephen, so I’ve got to get a new business off the ground.”

He kept going on about NJ as if it was a done deal, as if there was no way I wouldn’t move back, and that we’d automatically fall apart if I did. While it was certainly possible I’d move, I had no connections there anymore that I wanted to keep, apart from Peter. Pepper and the company, they were the past. They were out of the picture.

“I don’t want this to change.” He fumbled for my hand; as I’d started to do over the last couple of days, almost automatically, was run the pad of my thumb over the ridges of scars on his fingers. “I mean obviously we have to deal with the Nameless One, but this?” He gestured to the apartment around us. “I’ve never really had this. Coming home to a… a family.”

That sharp little pain sparked in my chest again. I felt for him. I’d had a family – parents who… well, at least one parent who’d loved me, and a father who’d tried but failed spectacularly – and Stephen had had a family, too. I’d no idea what his parents had been like, but I know he’d loved the sister our daughter was named after. 

“There’s no reason that has to change,” I said, still stroking the scars on his fingers. I half-expected him to pull his hand away – sometimes he let me do this, sometimes he didn’t. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, I gotta live somewhere, right? And it’s not like you can’t gate in from the other side of the world.”

“Come to Kamar-Taj with me,” he said impulsively, a fervent light shining from his eyes. “I know it’s not a big city but it’s a good place, I can make it safe –”

We’d already had that conversation. “Look, just relax, OK? I’m not in a real big hurry to move anywhere. And we’ve kinda gone off the res with this topic. And before you ask again, _yes,_ I’m sure I want both our names in Donna’s surname.”

Stephen pulled his hand away, then sighed and settled back onto the couch.

“Sorry,” he said. “Tell Shuri to put Stark-Strange on the birth certificate.”

“I told you, I don’t care which way around –”

He gave me a slow, lingering look. “I do.”

 

Petey came for another visit near the end of the third week. I was getting anxious about the Undying Ones; every day that passed without another attack on Wakanda was another day where they could attack again. I’d never been particularly good at waiting. The need to go out and kick some ass competed with the need to protect Donna. This contradiction, at least, was something I was used to feeling.

I’d built her a hover-stroller – although I guess if you took the wheels off it wasn’t really a stroller anymore – and it floated on one side of me, guided by a program on my wristwatch (another tweak) as Peter walked on the other. With an escort of Dora Milaje, we’d left the tower, left the city, and headed out to the savannah. It was hot, but not unbearably so, and the stroller had a sun-screen and climate control. The Cloak floated along on the other side of the stroller. I’d wanted Stephen to come along with us, but Wong had poked his head through a gate at the last moment and demanded his presence. It sucked, but I knew I couldn’t take up all of his time.

Peter, however, did not have climate control. While I’d slapped on the sun-cream and grabbed a pair of shades, Peter was already turning pink.

“Did I,” I said, running a critical eye over him, “or did I not – in no uncertain terms, I might add – tell you to put on the goddamned sun-cream?” I pulled off my baseball cap and slapped it on his head.

“There were some words,” he said with a careless shrug. “But I was totally distracted by this gorgeous little lady.” He leaned over the stroller, face breaking into a goofy grin.

As far as I was aware he had zero experience with babies, but he’d held her a couple times, even volunteered to change her. If he ever had kids of his own, I was pretty sure he’d make a solid dad. 

“She does kind of have that effect,” I conceded. 

“Are you coming back to New York soon?” he asked. It was impossible to miss the wistfulness in his voice.

“Petey…” I sighed. “Look, I don’t know, and that’s the honest answer. There’s not really been a lot of time to think about it.”

“It’s a pretty simple question, surely.” He sounded truculent.

“Oh sure, it’s a real simple question. The answer is a lot more complicated.” I owed him more of an explanation than that, though, so I tried again. “I told you that everything I do has to revolve around her.” I nodded to the stroller. “That hasn’t changed. I’m not a businessman anymore. I can’t just waltz back into Stark Industries.”

“But you’ll always be an inventor.” This time he just sounded puzzled. “Right?”

“Right. Apart from being Iron Man, that’s pretty much the only thing I’m good at,” I acknowledged. “But setting up a business takes money and oh yeah, I don’t have any.”

“Is that what you want to do?” he asked. “Set up another company?”

“I… don’t know. It’s all I’ve done since I left college and was old enough to sit on the Board.” I hadn’t even considered that angle, that I didn’t _have_ to go back into business. This was a fresh start in more ways than one. “But that’s what I studied for, so…”

“What did you wanna be?”

“Now that’s a _hard_ question.”

“Why?”

“Were you the kind of kid who always asked questions?” I demanded. “Like ‘why is the sky blue’ and ‘why can I now shoot web out of my hands’?”

His grin was unrepentant. “Yeah. And you’ve got all that to come with Donna.”

“Oh God.” I clutched my head, deliberately dramatic. “Just shoot me now.”

“So?” he prompted.

“So what?” We both knew I was stalling.

“What did you wanna be when you were a kid? And you can’t answer ‘Superman’.”

I sighed. “It was a long time ago, Peter. I don’t really remember. There was always just this… this expectation that I’d take over the family business.”

“I guess you’ve finally got the chance to really think about that.”

 

Despite our conversation, I didn’t think I’d be happy doing anything other than what I had been doing – inventing, creating, exploring possibilities, and getting paid to do that. And it was possible (likely, even) that my name alone still carried some value; I was pretty sure there’d be dozens of tech firms that would love to be connected to the Stark name, whether or not they were connected to Stark Industries. 

I could capitalise on that. But I didn’t play well with others. I didn’t want to be part of a team, I wanted to _be_ the team. I didn’t want to be told what I should be working on, or that there was a deadline, or any of a dozen other things.

Maybe I could stay here, work for the Wakandan Government. They were progressive enough that I could work _with_ them, and not just for them, and I knew Shuri would be interesting to work beside.

I put the issue to the back of my mind – where it had mostly stayed over the last couple of weeks – and thought about the Nameless Ones. Flying monkeys, now, that was a problem I could get behind.


	28. 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen determines that, because the Cloak of Levitation has 'chosen' Donna, she has inherited some magical ability from him in addition to nanites from Tony.   
> They call a war council with the other Avengers to discuss the Undying One threat, and to thrash out a plan of attack.

“It’s healed already!” I said to Stephen. “Come on, man. I behaved myself and everything, and I never even got a lollipop.”

My attempt at humour didn’t even raise a smile.

“I told you already that I don’t like this idea,” he grunted. “But right now it’s the only one we have. That doesn’t mean you have to be part of it.”

“My plan, my rules.”

“Technically it’s Peter’s plan. And I’d be a lot happier if we waited another week before we reached out to Fury.”

“Look, every day we delay this, there are more attacks. I’m done with waiting. The surgery incision’s healed up, the suit will cushion me, so there’s no reason why we can’t get this show on the road.”

He regarded me with a shuttered expression. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? You’re not going to stop.”

I flashed back to the last time I’d heard those words. I’d been talking about Steve Rogers. Now we were talking about me, and it struck me how similar I was to Steve, how similar we all were – we all had this burning need to make things right. Sometimes that meant we were so focussed we were blind to anything else, and we made mistakes.

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to stop.”

This was not a mistake. Right now we – the whole Earth – were just sitting ducks, waiting for the Undying Ones to make another attack before vanishing back to their own dimension. It was guerrilla warfare. I was done with waiting for the Wicked Witch of the West to make his move; it was time to take the fight to him.

“Alright,” he said sourly. “Contact Natasha. Let’s find Fury.”

 

“Hey, Nat.”

“Tony.” Natasha’s sultry tone came through the line. “It’s been a while. How’s Wakanda treating you?”

“Good,” I said, wondering whether Fury had told her about Donna. Somehow I doubted it; unless it benefited him or S.H.I.E.L.D, he kept his cards so close to his chest they were virtually in his pocket. “You?”

“Same old. Hang on just a sec.” I heard a burst of German, raised male voices, and Nat replying in kind. Then the distinct sound of someone being punched, people shouting, the crash of glass. Oh. She was working, then.

“All done,” she said, coming back on the line.

“Where’ve they got you now?” I asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” She sounded amused. “But one guy’s going to need a new set of teeth. He made me break a nail.”

“Well gosh,” I drawled. “He breaks your nail, you break his teeth.”

“Seemed fair.”

“Remind me again never to get on your bad side.”

Her laugh was soft. “You’re already on it.”

“Ouch. That hurts my feelings. Like, that _really_ hurts my feelings, you know I’m delicate –”

“What do you want, Tony?” she interrupted. “If this is social, can you call back in fifteen? I need to get this guy’s blood out of my dress –”

“It’s about the Undying Ones.”

“I’m listening.” Her tone changed. The teasing was gone, and she was all business.

“I need to set up a meeting with Fury,” I said, “and as many of the Avengers as he can find.”

“On it,” she said. “I’ll stay in touch.”

 

“Knock, knock.”

Shuri looked away from the holographic screen she was working on. When she saw me, she smiled.

“The door is always open for you, Tony. Especially if you bring your daughter with you.”

“Sorry,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I left her with her Papa. You got a minute?”

“Of course.”

“OK, so we’ve got a plan to take the fight to the Nameless Asshole. Or at least, the beginnings of a plan. I’ve put the call out to Nat to get in touch with Fury. You wanna play? Would be real helpful if we could get Felix on board, too.”

Her eyes gleamed. “I would not let my brother hear you call him ‘Felix’,” she snorted. “But Wakanda does not tolerate intrusions, so yes, I would very much like to play.”

 

“T’Challa’s mom won’t let him come out to play,” I told Stephen when I went back to our apartment. It was too easy to think of it as ‘our’ apartment – he couldn’t stay with me every night, sometimes Kamar-Taj called him away, but when he was here, it was home. “He’s gotta stay and do his homework. Scratching his claws, scent-marking the walls, something like that.”

Stephen smirked. “Catching up on state matters and re-affirming his grip on the throne.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“But Shuri’s with us?”

“Yeah. She’s got a grudge.” 

The smirk faded, and his eyes drifted to the nursery, where Donna was sleeping in her crib. I knew that the Cloak would be curled up at her feet.

“Whatcha thinking?” I asked.

His eyes snapped back to me. He smiled, but it was forced, and I think he knew I recognised that, because it faded just as quickly as it arrived. 

“Remember that whole ‘magic baby’ conversation?”

“Yeah. It’s in the back of my head, alongside all the other things I don’t wanna think about right now.”

“If we’re planning a combat situation, I need the Cloak.”

“Ah.” I grimaced. “Time to bring Fido to heel.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Hey, if it comes, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“If…”

His eyes held mine and he didn’t look away. They told me what I doubted he could say out loud: - he was frightened. I understood that, completely, because I’d felt a version of that fear before. Knowing that Donna’s nanites turned her skin into living metal… yeah, I’d freaked out. And he’d been there for me.

“Come on, Gandalf.” I patted his arm. “Gotta rip that Band-Aid off.”

He let out a slow, controlled breath. His posture straightened. He turned to face the nursery.

“Cloak,” he said. “Come here.”

Nothing. No flash of red, no fluttering fabric.

“Cloak of Levitation,” Stephen said, trying again, half-turning to give me a desperate look, “come here. Now. Come back to your master.”

Nadda. Zip. Bupkiss.

“Well, _shit,_ ” Stephen said, slumping. “We’ve got a magic baby.”

 

I made him tea. I’d seen him drink it often enough to know that he took it black. I guided him to the couch and made him sit. It didn’t take much, just a push on his shoulder, and he dropped down. Head down, mouth open, long hands dangling between his open knees. 

“If I’d known,” he muttered to himself. “If I’d only _known –_ ”

I’d always appreciated Stephen’s skill at somehow getting me to think everything would be alright. I didn’t know how he did it, but I was pretty sure I knew how to make it happen now – use his own words.

“Neither of us could have known this was gonna happen,” I said, handing him the tea. Cup and saucer, bone china, only the best in Wakanda. He took it, bracing it against his knees. “Neither of us deliberately set out to have a baby. We can’t blame ourselves for this.” I squeezed his shoulder, careful not to jostle the tea. “ _You_ can’t blame yourself.”

His half-smile was oddly endearing. Here was the guy who had an answer to everything. Not necessarily an answer I wanted to hear, but still. And now he just seemed kind of… I don’t know, lost. 

“I do blame myself, though. Maybe this is the reason sorcerers don’t have families.”

“Well that’s bullshit,” I said. “Sorcerers _do_ have families. The ones they leave behind. You told me most folk come to Kamar-Taj when they’re broken in some way, looking for a way to fix themselves. Donna’s the lucky one – her family’s right here.”

The half-smile vanished. His lips wavered. Moisture made his eyes sheen. I didn’t think – I just took the tea from his unprotesting hands, dumped it on the coffee table, and slung my arm around him. He covered his eyes with one hand.

“Hey, hey,” I said, leaning into him. “It’ll be OK. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. Donna’s healthy, she’s happy, she’s got the Cloak to look out for her.”

“I don’t even know how her magic’s going to manifest,” he said, sniffing. He kept his eyes covered. “I don’t know whether I should train her, or try to suppress it, or –”

“Stop,” I said, gently pulling his hand away. “No, look at me. Come on. Look at me.” 

He finally turned his head. His grey eyes were wide and damp. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

“There we go,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Eyes on the prize.”

“But –”

“Nuh uh.” I put a finger over his lips. “It’s enough for now that we know. We also know that she has natural armour. There’s nothing we can do about either of those things right now, but my God – you’re the Sorcerer Supreme, and I’m Iron Man. If there’s any two people on this Earth who can deal with this, it’s us.”

His smile this time was more natural, tickling my finger. I moved my hand away, but he caught it and brought it back to his lips, kissing my palm. 

“Thank you,” he said, finally letting my hand drop. “I needed to hear that.”

I shrugged. “You’ve been there for me, man, it’s only fair I give a little back.”

“How about giving me my tea back?”

“Come to the dark side, man. We have coffee.”

 

I was watching Stephen drink when Natasha messaged through a location and a time – co-ordinates on the West Coast, twelve hours from now. I passed the message to Shuri, then started packing the baby’s go-bag. 

“You’re not seriously thinking about taking her with us?” Stephen asked, eyebrows rising. 

“You’re not seriously thinking we should leave her behind?”

“It’s only going to be for a few hours. Ramonda will take care of her.”

“Hmm, lemme think about that real quick,” I said, tilting my head to one side. “How about ‘hell no’? Does that work for you?”

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

“Simple’s boring. I’m gonna go take a nap, wake me up when she needs feeding, OK?”

“Tony…”

“This is just a war council,” I said. “I would never willingly take her into a combat zone. When the time comes, we’ll leave her with Grandma Ramonda.”

“I know you’d never put her in harm’s way,” he said, nodding, “but at the moment only a handful of people know about her existence. Are you ready for the rest of the Avengers to find out?”

“I can’t keep her hidden forever. I don’t want to keep her hidden.” I understood that this wasn’t just about Donna. This was the whole ‘when you go back to New York’ thing all over again. “I don’t want to keep _us_ hidden.”

He was very still. “Sure about that?”

I held his eyes. “Yes. I’m sure.”

 

We stepped through the gate into a large meeting room. I’d done my homework before we left Wakanda – this was a mothballed S.H.I.E.L.D facility on the Washington State coastline. I was pretty sure there’d be no time to take Donna beachcombing. 

Nat and Fury had done an excellent job assembling the team – Scott Lang, Rhodey, Sam Wilson, Wanda, Peter, Clint, even Thor and Bruce, neither of whom I’d expected to see. But it was the absences that made me swallow, made me take a breath. Steve Rogers. Vision. Gone, but never – _ever_ – forgotten. 

“My God, it’s like Avengers bingo,” I said as I looked around the room, trying not to dwell on the maudlin. “Knock at the door, here’s Thor.” No one smiled. “Come on. Bingo? No one?”

“Take a seat, Stark,” Fury drawled. “None of us are getting any younger.”

The room was brightly lit, metal flasks of what I guessed were tea and coffee on the large oval table, even a couple plates of cookies. I snagged a chocolate chip and pulled out a chair, sitting carefully, mindful of Donna in the papoose. Stephen took the chair beside me, while Shuri sat beside him. She’d gone for a sharp pantsuit that, with silver trim, bore echoes of the Black Panther outfit.

And everyone was staring. Peter – who knew the truth, and for once knew just a little bit more than Fury – was staring at the table.

“Alright,” I said, around a mouthful of cookie. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room so we can get down to business.”

“Tony,” Nat said, her voice slow and measured, “would you like to tell us why you have a baby?” Her eyes flicked briefly to Stephen.

“We adopted,” I said. I put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. He tensed, then relaxed.

Silence. Then, “Isn’t that a little… sudden?” Rhodey asked. Of them all, he’d been my friend for the longest. I still counted him among my best friends. 

“You wanna know what’s sudden?” I said. I’d known there would be a barrage of questions – had been prepared for it – but I’d come here to talk about defending the Earth, not about my little family unit, and that made me angry. “What’s sudden is that Thanos was just able to snap his fingers and make half the Universe disappear.” I snapped the fingers of my right hand; most of the people in the room flinched. “Life’s short. And precious. Are we done now?”

“Not even a little,” Nat said. “What –”

“How about we leave the Q and A till _after_ we’ve discussed the safety of the Earth?” Fury said. “God knows I never thought Stark would ever be a father, but I think that’s a little less important at the moment.”

“Should a baby even be here right now?” Rhodey asked.

“What, you frightened she’s gonna spit up on you?” I asked.

“We’re just talking,” Scott said. “Nothing dangerous about that. Guy’s lucky he can spend time with his daughter.” He nodded at me, and I remembered again that he had a daughter of his own. And that he was separated from his wife. I couldn’t imagine how hard that must be, knowing his little girl was out there but he couldn’t see her every day. 

I nodded back. Wow. I think we’d just formed Dads Against Fury. We totally needed a better name. Maybe we could draft Clint.

“Can we just get on with this?” Fury growled.

“Fine by me.” I reached for another cookie. “Dumbledore, over to you.”

Stephen glared at me, letting me know that I’d pay for that comment later on, then made an arcane gesture with both hands. Holographic images – sorry, magical images – appeared over the table. I wondered briefly if Donna might react to seeing them, but her only action was to gurgle and wave her little fists. Maybe her magic senses were telling her they weren’t dangerous, that they were only copies.

And I’d totally just thought about my daughter having ‘magical senses’ without freaking out. Maybe I was finally starting to get the hang of this parenting thing.

“Here’s what we know about our enemy,” Stephen said. “The Nameless One is an extradimensional being. He’s not of our world, or even our Universe. He can open gates between dimensions and send his minions through to harass us – as he has been doing with the Undying Ones – but if he steps through himself, he will be weakened. The same holds true for me.”

“I believe your advice,” Fury said, “was to just wait until he made a move.”

“Sometimes wisdom comes from knowing when not to act.” 

Oh great – they’d decided to butt heads again. I understood the reasons why they couldn’t play nice; aside from Stephen’s ability to rub people up the wrong way – which as a fellow prickly pear, infuriated and impressed me at equal turns – I was pretty sure that Fury didn’t trust him. Knowledge was power, and Stephen represented a whole branch of knowledge that Fury didn’t – could never – possess. 

“And sometimes wisdom comes from knowing what your enemy is about to do before they do it,” Fury growled. 

“Back up, back up,” Scott said. Apart from Stephen, he was probably the only one of us who didn’t find the idea of different dimensions hard to get their head around; the guy had dipped a toe in the Quantum Realm and come out to tell the tale. “You said you’d be weakened if you go into his dimension.”

“Any sorcerer would,” Stephen said. It was clear he didn’t like acknowledging the point, but there was no getting around it.

“And that’s where Petey’s plan comes into play,” I said. Peter – who’d been gradually inching his fingers closer to the plate of cookies – guiltily snatched his hand back. “See, the thing with grown-ups is that we complicate things. We make life way harder for ourselves than it has to be. Young people look at the world through a more progressive lens.” 

“Then by all means,” Fury grunted, giving him a sour look, “enlighten us with your plan.”

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, sat up straight. “Stephen holds the gate open. A bunch of us go through and kill the Nameless One. We come home and eat cookies.” 

“For God’s sake,” Fury sighed, “someone just pass him the plate.”

Grinning, Peter stretched out an arm and snagged a handful.

“This is a simple plan,” Thor rumbled, speaking for the first time. “I like this one.”

I had no idea how Fury had got hold of him – bi-frost email or something – but I was glad. The guy could take a lot of damage, and he could dish it, too. 

“I have a question,” Wanda said. Her accent kept changing every time I talked to her – the kid whose parents had been killed by a Stark missile had lost most of her Eastern European accent when she’d been brought to the States, but when she was angry or upset, it came marching right back.

“We all have a lot of questions,” Fury said. “But go ahead.”

“My abilities… they call me ‘enhanced’,” she said, “but the things I can do look very much like magic, Doctor Strange. If I go into the Nameless One’s dimension, will I be able to fight?”

Now that was a _good_ question. She was every bit as much of a heavy hitter as Thor, in her own unique way, and in some ways she was a helluva lot more versatile. She and I would never be bosom buddies, but I understood that after Sokovia she’d been a lost kid trying to find where she fit in the world. The Avengers had given her that place, and I knew that she’d fight tooth and nail to do the right thing. 

But she was still so young. She and Peter, and Shuri, they were our future, and it was up to us old hands to show them the right way. If we could just get our heads out of asses long enough to do that.

“The essential core of magic is manipulation of energies,” Stephen said, his brow furrowing as he looked at her. “We manipulate energy in different ways, both of which are different again to how the Nameless One manipulates it in his own dimension. The short answer is ‘I don’t know.’”

“You couldn’t have just led with the short answer?” Sam, the Falcon, interjected. He looked bored.

“Aww, are we keeping you up past your bedtime?” I said. “Don’t worry, why don’t you go take a nap while the big kids play?”

“Why don’t you just zip it?” Sam shot back. “If it hadn’t been for you, the Cap –”

Fury slammed his hand on the table. Silence rang through the room. Donna, startled by the loud noise, turned her head in his direction, gurgled, then went to sleep against my chest. Good girl – barely three weeks old and she’d already figured out how to deal with him.

“Everybody who went to Titan did so of their own free will,” Fury said. “Nobody was coerced, nobody was pressured, you all made that choice for yourselves. So did Steve. It’s a goddamned shame he and the Winter Soldier died out there, but measured against half the Universe I’d say that’s an acceptable loss!”

“Acceptable loss?” Sam jumped to his feet, arms braced on the table. “What the hell do you know about _acceptable loss?_ ”

Fury glared at him with his one glittering eye. “Everything, Sam. Everything.”

Nat cleared her throat, trying to break the tension.

“We need more details about this other dimension,” she said. “What does it look like? Can we breathe there? What’s the terrain? You know, something like an actual plan rather than just a super-macho ‘let’s go hit stuff’ thing.”

“Leave it to another woman to finally speak some sense,” Shuri said. 

“Hear hear,” Wanda said. The three women smiled at each other.

“We can get down to details in a minute,” I said, looking around the room. I let the Girl Power moment go without comment, eyes lingering on Sam before moving on. “I just wanted to get the idea out there, get a feel for who wanted a little interdimensional smack-down.”

Hands went up around the table. Even Sam’s.

“Well good,” I said. “Now pass me another cookie before the Human Vacuum over there cleans them up, and we can talk shop.”

 

It took a couple hours, a comfort break, diaper change, bottle feed and screaming session later (and not from the baby), but we finally hashed out a plan. We’d touched on the subject of the Sokovia Accords – in fact we’d spent a good twenty minutes arguing about it – and we knew we were on shaky ground, legally, but we were all in agreement that the risk to civilians was minimal to non-existent.

The Accords had been replaced by a treaty that outlawed the Avengers, had driven those of us left behind on Earth underground. We knew that it had since been rescinded and a pardon issued, but what we were less clear on was whether the Accords were back in place, had been amended some other way, replaced or plain old ripped up. I still agreed that we needed checks and balances – had always thought that, since the Accords came into effect – but I’d come to believe that the only people who could make those checks were us. We had to police ourselves.

The Avengers Initiative had started out as six people, but we’d grown large enough to form our own council. We could take votes on where we should be deployed and what risks we should take. I guessed we’d still need some kind of final Governmental sign-off, and that could be tricky in a high-speed situation, but that was something that could wait for a future conversation.

“So,” Nat said when we’d finally finished hashing out the specifics of our upcoming mission. “The baby, Tony. Spill. I wanna know everything.”

“Never had you down as the momsy type,” I said, leaning back in the chair. Donna was with her Papa, nestled against his shoulder, a cloth over his jacket in case (or rather when) she spat up. 

“I like to live vicariously through other people’s kids,” she said. “Why d’you think Clint’s kids call me Aunty?”

“That’s so we can get a free babysitter,” Clint said, cocking his fingers into a gun-shape as he pointed at her. He had his legs up on the table and his chair pushed back, balancing on two legs. 

“You’re so funny.” She turned and pushed his boot, sending his chair over. He landed, rolled back, and came up on his feet, picking his chair up and turning it around. He straddled the seat, leaning his arms across the back.

“That’s what my wife tells me.” He flashed her a quick grin. 

“Were you there for the birth?” Scott asked. “I, uh, I kinda missed mine…”

“Yeah,” I said. “I was there. It was… interesting.” And the least said about that, the better. 

“Never mind the birth,” Rhodey said. “I wanna know what she’s called. And have you picked godparents yet?”

“We named her Donna, after Stephen’s sister. And we haven’t had an awful lot of time to think godparents,” I said. Not in between finding out she was both a magical powerhouse _and_ a marvel of modern science. “But we’ve got a few people in mind for godparents.” 

I was smiling, but I was pushing my real emotions to the back of my head, where I could deal with them in private. These guys were my comrades, my closest friends, and my equals. I wasn’t ashamed for them to know I was with Stephen, or embarrassed. I wanted them to know. But I guess I _had_ been a little anxious about how they would react.

And they’d given me the very best reaction by not reacting at all. 

They’d all been thrown by the ‘adoption’ thing, but none of them – not a single goddamned person – had freaked over finding out I’d adopted with Stephen. I guessed he and I really had been the last ones on _The Black Hole_ to recognise that we were into each other.

“Oh, the only person you need to keep in mind is right here,” Rhodey said, pointing his thumbs back toward himself.

“If it is godfathers you are talking about,” Thor said, smiling in that insufferable way that often made me want to punch him, “then you need look no further than an actual god.”

“If we’re talking about seniority…” Fury said.

What, gift him with a moral responsibility to look after my kid if both Stephen and I died? Give him a right to indoctrinate her into the Avengers? No, no and _hell_ no. 

“We’re not deciding anything just yet,” I said, which was the best I could manage at diplomacy right now. “But as far as I’m concerned, you guys are all her family. I mean Fury’s the creepy old Grandpa no one talks about, and no one wants to make Uncle Brucey mad –”

“Wait, did you just call me _Brucey?_ ” Bruce interrupted.

“ – and Peter is kind of unofficially her big brother.” Peter, who’d pretty much finished off a whole plate of cookies by himself, looked up, grinning. “You uh, you got a little…” I brought a couple of fingers to the corner of my mouth. The kid swiped his hand over his face, wiping away the crumbs. 

Super-powered, dysfunctional… but we were family. Our experiences had brought us together, but it was our desire to protect – our friends, our families, the rest of the goddamned world – that kept us together.


	29. 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat gets to the truth of Donna's conception.  
> Stephen and Tony, preparing for battle, return to Kamar-Taj so that Stephen can collect his new relic - the Coat of Possibilities.

Nat collared us as were about to leave, drawing us to one side, out of earshot of the others. I waved Shuri through the gate Stephen had just opened; she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder, then stepped through.

“Now you can tell me what you didn’t tell the others,” Nat said.

“Nothing else to tell.” I didn’t look at Stephen, knowing that she’d interpret that as suspicious. She’d be right, of course, but that didn’t make it any better.

“Come on, guys. I know you’re keeping something back. And I know that Fury knows, otherwise he’d have been all over you like a bad rash. Adopting a baby pretty much as soon as you get back to Earth?”

“I’m not getting any younger,” I snapped, putting up an angry front in the hope that it would deflect her. “Pepper made it pretty clear that she wanted nothing to do with me, so when I finally start to make things work with someone who _does,_ what’s wrong with jumping forward with both feet?”

“That _is_ the kind of all-or-nothing thing you’d do,” she conceded, “but all I’m hearing is a lot of cliché and nothing else.”

“Well, what can you do?” I shrugged and turned back to Stephen.

“Yeah? Who’s the birth mom, then?”

I flinched. I couldn’t help it. It was an involuntary reaction, there and gone in a second, but a second was all Nat needed to see it. Her smile was triumphant… and expectant.

Stephen jerked his thumb toward the gate. Nat walked through, and we followed after; Stephen closed the gate, leaving us in our lounge, where nobody could listen in. I didn’t trust Fury not to have the meeting place bugged, and neither, it seemed, did Nat.

Shuri had already left, leaving us alone. Stephen put his hand on my shoulder, a brief moment of support, before taking Donna into the nursery.

“You want coffee?” I asked, feeling momentarily lost, needing the delay the inevitable for just a few minutes more. “Something to eat? There’s a guy here, N’Bene, cooks the most amazing –”

“Tony.” Nat’s voice was slow and measured, implacable. She wasn’t going to let me stall. “Tell me the truth. I won’t tell Fury.”

“The nosy old bastard already knows,” I said morosely, dropping down onto the couch. I wondered how much I should tell her – she was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D, but she was also a friend. “He wanted to know why Stephen kept leaving fights as soon as they were done, why he wasn’t sticking around for the debriefs.”

“He was coming here?” Nat guessed. She sat on the couch beside me.

“Yeah. See, the thing is… Donna isn’t exactly adopted.”

“She either is or she isn’t.”

What was it I’d said to Stephen earlier? Just rip the Bnad-Aid off? Well, it was time to take my own advice.

“OK, so here it is – the night I slept with him, the Cloak wrapped me up in something called a Swaddling Cloth while I was asleep. Magical relic. Causes pregnancy.”

Her eyes opened wide, mouth gaping. I’d never seen her speechless or truly shocked; she was the kind of person who’d been there, seen it all, and got bored with the T-shirts. But I’d genuinely phased her.

“So Donna…”

“Is mine,” I said, “and Stephen’s. Biologically. No surrogate. Conception to birth in five days flat.”

“When Scott asked if you’d been there for the birth…! My _God,_ Tony, what the hell have you been through the last couple of weeks?”

My throat tightened, and I looked down. When we’d told Fury the truth, he’d only been concerned with the bigger picture – whether Donna was an asset or a threat – but Natasha? She was concerned about _me._

She startled me with a hug. I hugged her back, drawing strength from her comfort, before I pulled away. 

“It’s not exactly been a picnic,” I admitted. I saw Stephen leaning in the doorway of the nursey, watching and listening, arms crossed. “For either of us. I barely had time to get my head around the fact that it was happening, that my body was changing, before she arrived.”

“Wow,” Nat said, leaning back. “How did Fury take it?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

She grimaced. “He uses people. He does it for the right reasons, but he’ll use people however he can and damn the consequences.”

“Yeah.” I knew that he _did_ consider the consequences – considered them very carefully – and then went ahead and did it anyway. “So neither of us were real keen for him to find out about Donna before we were ready to tell people the cover story. He, uh, he mentioned the Young Avengers and I threatened to rip out his other eye.”

She let out a low whistle. “Wow. Never figured you for a momma bear type.”

“Never figured myself for a momma.”

We shared a look. “So this Shroud thing… it can make anyone pregnant?”

“Well, I mean you gotta have the basic ingredients in play first – boy meets girl or whatever – but yeah, I guess.” I looked at Stephen, who nodded.

“You’re thinking of approaching Banner with this?” he asked.

“What? No!” She gave him a panicky look. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re not the only one with eyes.”

“Come on, Nat, everyone knows you’re sweet on the Jolly Green Giant,” I said. “It’s not like you’ve gone to any great pains to hide it.”

“Well, alright,” she conceded with a shrug. “Look, it was just an idea, OK? He made it pretty clear a while back that he didn’t want kids. And I _can’t_ have kids, so…”

“But is it something that you _would_ want?” I asked. “I mean, the two of you.”

She looked away. “There isn’t really even a ‘two’ of us,” she said. “He’s… well, I know he likes me, but he’s just so goddammed reserved.” She straightened up. “And we are so not talking about me right now.”

“Oh no no, don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily,” I said. “If I have to put up with the Spanish Inquisition, you can take what you dish.”

“This is about the Quinjet thing, isn’t it?” she said with a resigned sigh.

“What Quinjet thing?” Stephen asked. 

“The ride over here,” I said, “from the Arctic S.H.I.E.L.D base. I was hanging like a dog, didn’t know I was pregnant – hell, was some of that morning sickness? God.” I shuddered. “Anyway, she went all in with the thumbscrews and got everything out of me.”

Stephen made a disagreeable noise and pushed himself away from the nursery door, coming to sit in the armchair across from us.

“Well then,” he said, “it’s only fair that we return the favour. _Quid pro quo,_ Natasha.”

 

In the end, I think Nat was actually pretty happy to talk, despite her initial reticence. Once we got her starting it was hard to get her to stop – not that we really wanted her to stop. She was usually a pretty closed book about her own feelings. Part of her professional abilities revolved around projecting what she thought you wanted to see; it was one of the reasons she was such a good infiltrator. To be shown the real woman beneath that was an honour.

She never came right out and said it, but we got the impression that she was head over heels for Bruce, and had been for a couple years now. I knew she’d come onto him a few times – had seen it in the old Avengers compound, the night Ultron trashed the place – and I knew he was in to her. But she was right – he was reserved, and add to that his Hulk issues…

They _could_ make it work, if they could just take that first big step and acknowledge that they had something. Fear was both a great motivator and a terrible chain around your neck.

We left Nat with one piece of advice. “If you want kids, I’d adopt,” Stephen said. “Some genetic traits are probably best _not_ handed down.”

She gave him a hard look. “At the moment, all I’m seeing is Tony’s nose and your chin. What else has she inherited?”

“That’s a conversation for another day.” His answering look was just as firm, and she relaxed, seeming to realise that she’d get nothing more from him.

“Shucks. And here I was hoping for a little green baby.”

“Don’t even breathe that idea around Fury,” I grumbled. “He’d get the kid enrolled in the Young Avengers before it could even walk.”

 

Now that we had a battle-plan thrashed out, there was no sense in waiting. Fury had given us twenty-four hours to check over our gear and grab some sleep. We had a new rendezvous point somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere – low foothills in Montana or Wyoming or Oregon – in case the plan back-fired and put civilians at risk. Stephen assured us that he could open a gate to the Nameless One’s dimension from any location. Unspoken (but very much at the forefront of my mind) was the knowledge that he could close gates, too. If we were overpowered for whatever reason, I was relying on him to shut the goddamned door.

“I wish you’d reconsider,” Stephen said as we walked along a corridor on our way to drop Donna with Grandma Ramonda. “I don’t like the idea of you joining this fight.”

“We’ve been over this already,” I said, trying to keep hold of my irritation. “I don’t like the idea of you going either, but the plan’s dead in the water unless we can get a gate open.”

“I know,” he sighed. “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it? Neither of us can give up who we are, even though we have so much to protect.”

“We do it _because_ we have so much to protect,” I said. This was a conversation I’d had – or a variant of it – with Pepper, many times. Stephen instinctively understood the situation because he was living it, but Pepper had always wanted me to give up being Iron Man. And for a time, I’d thought I’d be able to do that. But I couldn’t. Although we’d spent the next couple of years together, I think that was the real beginning of the end of our relationship.

 

Stephen opened a gate. I peered through.

“That doesn’t look like Ass-Hat, Nebraska,” I said, peering through. “Aged brickwork, harassed-looking students, oh, hey Wong – why are we looking at Kamar-Taj?”

“Stay here,” Stephen said, striding through, so of course I followed him. It was much colder in Kamar-Taj, and I was dressed for Wakanda. Maybe I should have brought a sweater.

“What part of ‘stay here’ was too hard for you to understand?” he scowled. He took a corridor. I kept pace, lengthening my stride to keep up.

“The part where you said ‘stay’,” I said. “I’m not a dog.”

The truth was, I wasn’t dealing too well with being separated from my daughter, and it had barely been five minutes. I knew she was safe here – in the heart of Wakanda, behind a wall of Dora Milaje, under the protection of the Black Panther and his mother, there wasn’t a safer place for her. So seeing Stephen walk off was a big no-no. It was stupid, I knew that, but I couldn’t help how I felt. We were perhaps minutes away from battle. I had to keep him at my side for as long as I could.

“If you _were_ a dog, I could get away with tying you up,” he grunted.

“And suddenly I’m down for that.”

He stopped so abruptly I’d walked a couple paces before I realised.

“Come on,” I said, turning with a smile on my face. “Weren’t you the one in such a rush?”

“When we’ve finished with the Undying One,” he said, his voice a rough growl that made me shiver, “I’m going to make you remember all the things you forgot the first night we spent together.”

“Pinkie promise.” My voice was a croak. We’d spent pretty much every night together for almost a month now, but apart from our one-night stand, none of those nights had involved sex. There’d been times when I’d thought about it, pretty much any time we were touching, but there’d never been a right time to take those thoughts further. I’d either been pregnant or recovering from surgery. Was this what it was like for ordinary couples? 

“You have my word.” His voice dropped even further. “Will that suffice?”

“Oh God, yes.”

He smirked and started moving again. I smirked back, getting my head back in the game, and followed after.

We entered a long hall. Despite the cold outside, the light in here was bright and warm, streaming through tall, elegant windows, painting blocks of yellow and white on the stone floor. Glass display cases lined the walls every ten feet or so. Stephen was moving fast enough that I couldn’t do more than peek inside each one. This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind for my first visit to Kamar-Taj. 

He stopped in front of a particular case. When I drew level with him, I saw that it contained another cloak, blue this time, cut on similar lines to his previous one.

“The Cloak’s got a brother?” I said. “What is this, Player Two?”

“What?”

“Player Two?” His blank eyes didn’t clear. “Come on, you’re seriously telling me that you _didn’t_ play video games as a kid?”

“Amazingly enough, I spent my childhood studying,” he said. 

“Oh my God, I’m getting you a PlayStation,” I said. “We’re gonna sit down and play some Mario, maybe a little Donkey Kong. They’re classics, man.”

“Would you mind getting to the point so we can go to war?”

I dragged a hand down over my face. “It’s all about style. Player One is always red. Player two is always blue. That’s, like, gaming law or something.”

“I’ll be sure to bear it in mind,” he said. “Now you might want to stand back, because I don’t know if this is going to work.”

I stood back. It was always a good idea to listen when a wizard gave out warnings. He moved his hand over the lock; a faint _click,_ and the case swung open.

The rich blue cloth moved, and I saw now that it wasn’t a cloak at all. It was a long coat, with billowing sleeves, heavy silver-blue trim, rich embroidery, and deep pockets. Snazzy collar.

“So who’s this dude?” I asked. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought from the posture that the coat was sizing Stephen up.

“This is the Coat of Possibilities,” he said.

“Not as snappy as the Cloak of Levitation. On account of not having the ‘levitation’ part.”

“In its own way, it is even more powerful.” He flicked me a glance, making sure I was standing a respectable distance away before reaching into the cabinet. He held his hand out.

The Coat moved an arm, letting one long sleeve drape in Stephen’s hand. They shook. I’d grown used to the Cloak’s foibles, so this wasn’t the oddest thing I’d seen.

Stephen bowed. The Coat mirrored the move. As he straightened up, his lips curved in a triumphant smile, and I knew things were going OK.

I watched as he unbuckled his belts, setting them hovering in the air alongside whatever other mystical doodads he had hanging around his waist. He shrugged out of his coat, opened a gate, and sent it through.

“Hey, strip-show,” I said. “Neat.”

“You like that kind of thing?” he asked, closing the gate with a wave of his hand. He held his arms out at his sides.

“Only if you do it.”

“Noted,” he said. The Coat slid along his arms, settling over his shoulders. “So that’s British accents and a strip-tease.” He tilted his head to one side. “Maybe a little bondage?” The Coat wrapped itself snuggly around his middle, and he sucked in a breath. “This is tight.”

“I think you’ve just described my perfect Saturday night,” I drawled. 

The Coat relaxed. Stephen breathed out, made another couple of arcane passes, and got the belts strapped back around his waist. He wriggled his upper body, making a few hard jabs and classic sorcerer poses, testing the fit. Not being as free-flowing as the Cloak, the Coat didn’t have as much movement, but I could see that the hem was rippling. I knew what that meant on the Cloak, but this new relic was a complete unknown. What even did ‘possibilities’ mean?

“How is it looking?” Stephen asked.

“Well it’s not red, but blue looks damned good on you.”

His smile was warm, eyes promising something that I very much wanted to explore. After the battle…

“Keep looking at me like that, and this plan won’t get off the ground at all,” he growled, his arm snaking around my waist to pull me hard against him.

“Why, Doctor Strange, whatever are you suggesting?” I said, fluttering my lashes at him.

He kissed me, pushing me back against the wall, his lips moving roughly over mine. I grabbed his arms, fingers digging into the cloth. His tongue pushed insistently against mine.

When he finally dragged his mouth away, he was breathing hard, pupils dilated. I figured I pretty much looked the same way. Yeah… when this battle was over, we had unfinished business. I might have regretted our one-night stand, but any time we spent together now, I’d never regret. 

The only thing I truly regretted about that night was that I’d run out on him.

“Business at hand, right?” I sighed, putting a couple feet between us. “Kinda missing the Cloak already,” I said, gesturing to his Coat. “This new guy, it doesn’t billow. Can’t beat a good old dramatic billow.”

“Super-heroes are all the same.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “Can’t save the world unless you’ve got an outfit, a whole bunch of gadgets, and a tragic backstory.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”


	30. 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers take the fight to the Nameless One.

After returning to Wakanda to collect Shuri, Stephen opened a gate directly to No-Name, Idaho. We stepped through into an inch of snow and the biting cold of a mid-US winter. I looked around – low hills disappeared into the distance, more brown than white, the hard grey sky fading to yellow-white along the horizon. A Quinjet stood idle about twenty feet away, Nat sitting cross-legged on one wing.

“Nice of you to finally join us!” she called, flipping athletically down to ground level. 

I looked at my watch. “We’re on time.”

“Would it have killed you to be early?”

I shared a look with Stephen. “Since when did you become the time police?”

“More like the patience police,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s a reason I’m the only one outside right now. It’s like dealing with a bunch of children, except that these ones know how to swear.”

“All kids know how to swear,” I said, shrugging. “Aren’t they born knowing it?” I looked at Stephen, then Shuri. “Automatic birth skill, like puking. Right?”

“For your sake, you had better hope not,” Shuri said. She’d come armed for bear, wearing a modified a version of the Black Panther armour and carrying a couple of short metal sticks that carried one hell of an electrical punch. And that was just the weapons I could see. Shuri believed in being prepared. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Nat sighed. “Like the new threads, by the way,” she said over her shoulder to Stephen as she walked to the Quinjet’s entrance. “What happened to the Cloak?”

“Upgrade,” was all he said. He couldn’t tell her the real reason, not without revealing secrets neither of us were ready to share.

“This thing fly?”

“Amongst other things.”

She thumbed the control and a door slid open. “You going to pull a rabbit out of your pocket?”

“That’s not all he’s got in his pocket.” Sometimes, I just couldn’t help myself.

 

It was a tight fit in the Quinjet, and that wasn’t even counting our egos. I was glad Nat had left the door open.

“Alright,” Fury said. When we landed on the other side, he was going to keep the Quinjet in stealth mode and wait for our return. “Do we all remember the plan?”

There was a dull chorus of assent.

“Do we remember that we have to _stick_ to the plan?” he asked, eyeing Stephen’s new attire. He had questions – it was obvious in the glare of his eye – but this was neither the time nor the place to ask them, and I had no doubt that the Sorcerer Supreme would fudge through them as he just had with Nat.

“No going off the grid, no side quests, no dramatic last stands,” Fury said. “You get in, complete the mission, and get out. Do I make myself clear?”

I rolled my eyes. “Get off your soapbox, Pa. You’ve got your job, let us do ours.”

His eye lingered on me. “Don’t get cocky. You know the dangers.”

“Cocky? We’ve met, right?”

“I think that covers everything,” Stephen said. “Natasha, Shuri, you’re with me.”

Stephen would remain behind to open the gate, and he would keep it open until we came back. When he was holding the gate, he wouldn’t be able to do anything else. We expected there’d be an armed response in the form of Undying Ones, so Nat and Shuri had been deployed to keep him safe.

Wanda was going with us. It was a risk – no one knew whether her enhanced abilities would function in another dimension – but it was a risk we had to take; on his own turf, the Nameless One was a powerful magic user, as powerful as Stephen himself. We needed Wanda to keep him distracted until we were able to put him down. If she couldn’t, well, there were enough of us that we’d just have to do it the old-fashioned way.

Stephen, Nat and Shuri disembarked the Quinjet. There was no time or privacy for a personal goodbye, but I grabbed his hand as he passed and gave it a hard squeeze. His quick smile revealed the tension he wouldn’t allow himself to show in any other way. Then he was gone. I fought the need to run right after him.

I peered through the window, watching as he walked a couple hundred feet away and opened a gate large enough to accommodate the Quinjet. Nat and Shuri took up defensive positions on either side of him.

“Buckle up, people,” Fury said, firing up the engines. “We’re going in.”

 

I felt like Alice going down the rabbit hole. We were totally going to meet the Mad Hatter, but this wasn’t the kind of tea party he got to walk away from.

The Nameless One’s dimension was a lot like Earth… if you took out all the joy, rolled it into a ball and tossed it away. The Quinjet sped across a blasted landscape; dark plains spread for miles in every direction, broken only by foothills in the near distance and, eventually, mountains. This wasn’t the world at night; it was a world of perpetual twilight. Later – when the dust settled – I’d marvel at the fact that not only had I been to other planets, I’d been to another plain of existence. Right now I was just hyped for a fight.

“Bogeys in the area,” Fury said, studying one of the screens on his console a couple of minutes into the flight.

“We’re still cloaked, right?” I asked, peering through the window.

“We are. But we don’t know how the Undying Ones see.”

“Well, this could be fun.”

We waited, growing tenser by the second. But there was no attack.

“Approaching the target,” Fury said.

Stephen’s brief – based on the information gleaned by sorcerers over centuries of combat – had been specific: - the Nameless One made his base in a vast cavern in the mountains. There wasn’t a safe landing space for the Quinjet, so we’d have to disembark mid-air and go in hot.

“Alright,” I said, cracking my knuckles, stretching my neck muscles. “Let’s go crash the party.”

 

The plan was simple – we were throwing our berserker into the ring first. The hard hitters would follow up, and the specialists would keep an eye on our flanks. Simple was always best when it came to fights, because things could turn to shit too quickly to accommodate complicated changes. 

Fury got us to within a half mile of the cavern entrance, then opened the bay doors and lowered the ramp. A hard, cold wind ripped through the cabin.

“I’d just like to state for the record that I think this is a terrible idea!” Bruce called over the noise.

“What is that, like twelve times we’ve got that on record now?” I called back, shoving him toward the ramp. Sam Wilson was suited up and ready to go with him. “Now get out there and give ‘em hell, tiger.” I slapped him on the shoulder.

Together they ran up to the edge of the ramp; Sam grabbed him under the shoulders and took off. I had one last glimpse of Bruce’s terrified eyes before a flush of green rippled over his face, signalling the start of his change. Then they were gone.

Bruce had suffered a few performance issues during the fight with Thanos. The Mad Titan had been one of only a few beings capable of hurting him, and the Hulk had known fear – true fear – for the first time in his life. He’d overcome it long enough to step up during the final battle, but I knew it would always be something he fought against. That was normal. That was healthy. The day he Hulked out without an effort, I would start worrying. 

A couple seconds later we heard an enraged roar, loud enough to sound over the biting wind and the growl of the engines. The big guy had come out to play.

We gave him a five minute head-start. He could do a hell of a lot of damage in five minutes.

“Right,” I said, looking at my watch. “That should be enough time. See you on the ground, guys.” I ran toward the ramp, tapping the ARC reactor as I moved, suiting up as I jumped. The rush of fear and adrenaline as I fell, buffeted by freezing air, was something I’d never got used to. I didn’t think I ever would and I certainly didn’t want to. I needed it, sometimes, to remind me that I was alive. That I was mortal and that always – _always¬_ – actions had consequences. 

The wind stopped, cut off by the perfect seal of the suit. I turned my headlong fall into guided flight, repulsors kicking in to give me forward momentum. Thor was at my eight, Stormbreaker giving lift, and Rhodey in his War Machine suit kept pace at my four. 

“All systems are optimal, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice said in my ear. 

“Good to know. Rhodey, how you doing?”

“Hot to rock.” 

“Thor?” He’d been fitted with a communicator, but without a suit he had to shout to make himself heard over the wind.

“I do not like this dimension!” he said. “It smells of rotten eggs!”

“You smelt it, you dealt it, buddy.” 

Rhodey snickered. 

“Deploying Hawkeye and Spider-Man,” Fury said.

I’d tricked Peter’s Iron Spider suit out with the same repulsor technology I used in my own, giving him the ability to fly. Clint was hitching a ride on a web sling. It wasn’t exactly first class travel, but it would get him down to ground level, where the two of them would have oversight of the whole battle.

“Yuck,” Clint said, “Thor’s right. Who dropped one?”

“Wanda and Ant-Man are a-go,” Fury called. “Wanda, you gotta come up with a code-name already.”

“I fight as myself, not as a persona.” Her voice was barely audible over the wind; her telekinetic powers let her fly, and Scott had gone bug-sized and hitched a ride. They were our wild cards. If Wanda’s presence in this dimension lessened her abilities, Scott could protect her long enough to get her back to the Quinjet; if she was OK, he could lend a hand. Given that she was flying like a bird, I had high hopes.

“Ouch,” I said. “Now my feelings are hurt.”

“Don’t hold back, Wanda,” Clint said. “Tell us how you really feel.”

“I’m sure your egos will cope,” she said.

“Holding position and maintaining altitude,” Fury barked. “So cut the chit-chat and pay attention before something eats you.”

“Well gosh,” I drawled. The vast mouth of the cavern was coming into view, an immense black mouth in the side of the mountain. “I know I’m just a humble man and all, but some of us _can_ multi-task. So Wanda’s got this red coat. How about we call her the Maroon Marauder?”

Rhodey laughed. “Maroon Marauder? Don’t make out like she comes from Hogwarts, man.”

Wanda muttered something under her breath, further muffled by the wind. I couldn’t make out the word but the tone for ‘asshole’ was universal.

Undying Ones were swarming around the entrance to the cavern, gathered so thickly they must have been knocking into each other. Although the numbers seemed daunting, it kind of worked in our favour – the more flying monkeys who fouled their wings and crashed out of the way, the less we had to deal with.

“Looks like they rolled out the welcome mat,” I said. “Any sign of the Hulk? Sam, you got eyes on the Jolly Green Giant?”

As if on cue, the Hulk burst out from a particularly dense knot of monkeys. He had one in each hand and… well, he was pretty much just using them as weapons, smashing them into each other, bouncing them off boulders. He looked as if he was enjoying himself.

“We’re trying to get a door open for you,” Sam’s voice came over the line. An explosion sent the monkeys scattering; he was the precision striker to Hulk’s battering ram.

“See if you can encourage the big guy to keep Bubbles and his crew off our asses when we get inside, will ya?”

“Copy that.”

The Hulk had managed to scatter enough monsters for us to get inside the cavern. I directed an extra burst of speed into the repulsors, arrowing down, making sure that Thor and Rhodey were keeping pace.

If I’d thought the mouth of the cavern was immense, it was nothing compared to the inside. I was pretty sure you could fit Manhattan Island into this place; the massive vaulting ceiling was lost to darkness, tiny specks of light glittering in the artificial night sky. We sped over black lakes, tangled, twisted vegetation, and stunted animals. The few buildings we saw were low and squat, with one exception – a vast tower in the distance, so black it made the fake night sky look like an overcast afternoon.

“Hey, isn’t that the tower from Van Gogh’s Starry Night?” I said. It certainly looked similar; twisted and leaning, bright pinpricks of light the only counterpoint to the dark.

“Who cares?” Rhodey said. “All we need to know is can we blast it, and – shit, we got company!”

As expected, the welcoming party outside weren’t our only escorts. A flock of monkeys approached from Rhodey’s three ‘o clock, with another flock dead ahead and a third from the ground. 

“I will take the vermin on the ground,” Thor announced.

“Negative,” I barked. “Primary objective is the tower! Don’t engage unless they block your path!”

“We cannot leave our rear undefended –”

“That’s why we invited Hulk and Sam to the tea party,” I growled. “Trust them to do their job, OK?”

“Pray that this decision doesn’t come back to haunt us!”

“We have _got_ to update your vocabulary,” I said, shaking my head. “Just because you’re a couple thousand years old, doesn’t mean you gotta talk like something out of the _Lord of the Rings._ ”

“I have seen those movies! I approve!”

“You would, man, you would. Onward to Isengard. Sheesh.” I shook my head.

The tower – our new focal point – rapidly filled the horizon, and as we outpaced the flanking monkeys it became apparent that it wasn’t just a tower. A massive wall enclosed a parade ground. The reason I knew it was a parade ground because it was full of troops. Hundreds – maybe thousands – of short, ugly creatures, similar to the monkeys but lacking wings.

“Well shit,” Rhodey said. “Doctor Strange didn’t say anything about ground troops.”

Our objective – the Nameless One – stood on a dais, and as we came closer I got my first good look at him. Stephen had been vague about what the guy actually looked like, saying only that he had taken on several different appearances over the millennia, and he hadn’t been kidding – the thing on the dais was humanoid, freakishly tall, with leathery grey skin. Someone had stuck two torsos together to make him; he had two pairs of arms, one set under the other, a long ribcage, and a long, whip-like tail. A small head on a bullish neck…. oh yeah, and another freaking head growing out of the back of the first. Because one clearly hadn’t been enough.

“My _God,_ ” I said. “That is one butt-ugly dude. OK, let’s go say hi to Voldemort.”

“Seriously?” Rhodey said, changing course. “You’re going with ‘Voldemort’?”

“Well, I could call him Quirrell,” I said, matching my course to his. I checked to make sure that Thor was following. “He _did_ have another guy on the back of his head. Nah, I’m just gonna stick with Voldemort –”

A rain of arrows filled my view. Instinctively I took evasive action, pulling back so that I could climb at a sharp angle and avoid the volley. I wasn’t altogether successful – dozens of tiny _tink_ noises shook the suit – but they were just _arrows,_ what harm could they do –

A dozen small, condensed explosions knocked me off course. The sound was so loud my ears rang, shaking my skull against the cushioning in the helmet. I shook my head, dazed, trying to focus on F.R.I.D.A.Y. What had I been thinking? Of course arrows could do damage, you only had to watch Clint to learn that one.

“Suit integrity down to ninety-five per cent, boss,” she said. “I would advise avoiding the exploding arrows.”

“Yeah, kind of worked that one out myself,” I said, directing more power to the repulsors so I could climb higher and get a better view. Thor hadn’t been so lucky in avoiding the arrows; his skin was blackened and burned, his Asgardian armour battered, and he looked _pissed._ Right now I was having a hard time remembering that he was the god of thunder and not of war. Rhodey had managed to stay clear and gain some altitude. 

I looked behind us. The three groups of monkeys were closing in, but a giant green bowling ball bounced along after them, playing parkour with the cavern walls, the buildings, and any low-flying monsters. Sam flitted high above the Hulk, picking off stragglers and making sure the guy wasn’t overwhelmed. Although just what kind of numbers it took to overwhelm the Hulk, we had yet to find.

“Alright, target’s in sight,” I grunted. “Voldemort’s going down. Remember, this is a kill mission, not a capture, and we are definitely aiming for collateral damage.” Thor and Rhodey dived.

I looked around, squinting in the gloom to locate Clint. A glint of white light on the tower told me that he’d taken up a sharp-shooter’s position, and was making full use of that on the monkeys behind us. Peter was lower down the tower, flinging web at his own targets.

The first of the flying monsters were in range; I blasted it with the palm repulsors, then sent a couple of shoulder-mounted rockets to go say hi to the monkey’s buddies. They exploded in a mass of green feathers and a spray of flesh and blood. Trusting that Clint, Peter, Hulk and Sam would keep them off my tail, I turned and dived after Thor and Rhodey, speeding up to re-join the formation.

I chanced a look over my shoulder, trying to locate Wanda and Scott. I needn’t have worried – Wanda was surrounded by a nimbus of scarlet light, her red hair flowing out behind her, and her eyes were _glowing._

“Ah, Wanda, honey?” I said. “I don’t mean to be a killjoy, but did you know that you’re basically just a giant LED right now?”

“I feel so _powerful!_ ” she groaned, her voice deep and throbbing in my ear. It was the kind of voice that would probably make you go tie yourself up on a chat-line or something. “We worried that my powers would not work in this dimension, but we were wrong!”

“Yeah, you maybe might wanna dial back on the sex-show host,” I said, turning to make sure I was still on course. So this dimension actually strengthened her abilities, not weakened them. 

“Dude, don’t piss off the glowing lady who doesn’t need a goddamn suit to fly, OK?” Rhodey growled.

“Alright, alright… sorry, Wanda.”

“You are forgiven. Even if you are an asshole.” Her deep laugh sent shivers down my spine. 

Wow. She was pretty, I guess, in a gaunt fashion-model kind of way, but she wasn’t my type, and after the whole Sokovia thing I’d had to learn not to be afraid of her. But the way she sounded now – the way she carried herself, effortlessly avoiding incoming monkeys – that was _hot._ It felt disloyal to Stephen to feel that way about her, but thinking was a million miles away from cheating.

We were only a couple hundred yards shy of the courtyard and closing fast. The bow-wielding dwarves were reloading. They were definitely going to be a problem for us. 

“Scott, how’s your flight on Wanda Air?” I asked.

“Smooth,” he said. “She’s crackling right now though, so everything’s kind of tingly. In-flight entertainment’s not up to much.”

“OK, tingly is not a word I needed to hear. Can you run interference with the dwarves?”

“Dwarves? I thought they looked more like goblins –”

“For the sake of my patience can you just go and mess them up already?” I snapped. “Grow a couple stories and start stomping!”

“Sir, yes sir!” he said.

“Incoming!” Rhodey yelled. 

I dodged another salvo of arrows, rolling to one side and plunging into a hard dive. This was it – all the players were on the field, the ball was in play, and it was time to get rough.

I pulled out of the dive at the last second, shooting across the heads of the dwarves, straight on a course for Voldemort. Thor and Rhodey pulled up ten or fifteen feet above me and kept pace. 

Through all this, Voldemort hadn’t moved, hadn’t run away, and hadn’t started flinging spells. I was fifty feet away and closing fast. I prepared to take evasive action, to roll out of the way if I had to – and then, just twenty feet away, both sets of arms moved as the asshole threw up an arcane shield. His magic was poison green to Stephen’s orange and Wanda’s red. Yup, dude was definitely a Death Eater. 

My back arched as I moved out of the way. The shield vanished and I made a hard loop, coming right back in to punch the toothy, reptilian grin off his front face. 

He got a shield up when my fist was a hair’s breadth away. Too late to abort; it was like punching a concrete wall. The suit took the worst of the impact, but it still sent needles of pain up my arm.

Voldemort whispered a word. Later, I could never be sure what he’d said – my mind trying to protect me from the trauma, maybe – but I recalled the effect with perfect clarity because it hurt so fucking much: - an invisible force slammed into me, feeling like a freight train. It carried me back, away, smashing into a group of dwarves. We went tumbling across the courtyard like bowling pins.

“Suit integrity down to ninety one per cent,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced.

“ _Ow…_ ”

I don’t know how I got myself back in the air – more instinct than anything – because the pain rippling through every limb in my body made it hard to think. Whatever Voldemort had thrown at me, it was clearly two parts Stupefy to one part Cruciatus, a fact Rhodey and Thor were also finding out. Rhodey went down hard, slamming into the dirt nearby. Thor – who had a much higher pain threshold and a real solid way of planting his feet – weathered the spell with nothing more than a snarl of effort. Yeah. Great teeth, neat hairstyle, and hard as rocks – I’d never known whether to be jealous or turned on. Little of both, maybe.

And still, the asshole was just standing there. I hovered, twitching from the pain, trying to get my limbs to co-ordinate enough to go get Rhodey. 

Movement in my periphery caught my attention. I half-turned to see Scott, a good forty feet tall, kicking his way through the ranks of dwarves like Moses parting the Red Sea. The ground under his feet was red.

“Take that, you little bastards,” I muttered, turning back to the main attraction.

A familiar roar was the Hulk, late to the party despite leaving the Quinjet first. But I wasn’t the kind of guy who got down on people for playing with their toys, and he looked as if he was having a whale of a time, mostly as how whaling was what he was doing – every time he jumped up he snatched another couple winged monkeys out of the air. Sam swooped overhead, keeping up his job as Hulk’s spotter.

I managed to reach Rhodey just as he was getting up. I landed on the run, giving him a hand and pulling him to his feet before jumping into the air again. He sprang up behind me.

“You OK, buddy?” I asked.

“I think I peed myself,” he said, sounding as dazed as I’d felt just a minute ago.

“Great,” I said. “Let the record state that War Machine peed himself.”

“Just a little.”

“Any one got some Depends?”

“Tony!” Clint barked, grabbing my attention. “Wanda!”

I banked in time to see Wanda’s slight figure on the ground, about thirty feet away from Voldemort, but it was impossible to see what they were doing – they were encased in light, violent green pushing against bright scarlet, so bright it hurt my eyes. F.R.I.D.A.Y automatically dimmed the suit’s visor to block out the glare.

“Witch,” I said, trying to look everywhere while still watching the main show. “She’s a goddamned witch.”

“Scarlet Witch,” Rhodey said.

“I – hate – that!” Wanda growled, the words pushed through clenched teeth.

“Too late,” I said. “That’s sticking. Rhodey, check your six!”

He turned, hands out, palm repulsors kicking in to shoot the monsters running up behind us. The screamed and dropped, burning as they fell. 

The plan had been for Wanda to keep Voldemort distracted long enough for the three hardest hitters to get in there and start smacking him around, and I was glad now that we’d kept the plan nice and simple – Wanda’s power was so jacked up, she was able to take him on by herself while the rest of us kept the minions off her back. It was impressive as hell.

“Well shucks,” I said, tearing my attention away to join Rhodey, “there’s just too many movies going on here. We’ve got _Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter,_ even the _Wizard of Oz._ ” I swooped down low, taking out a bunch of dwarves that were trying to climb up Scot’s giant legs. They bounced a couple times and didn’t move, broken limbs sticking up every which way. “I can’t pick which one to reference next.”

“ _Wizard of Oz?_ ” Rhodey asked. He’d joined Sam, and they were working together to keep the Hulk’s back clear. The big guy was very forward-focussed.

“Ah, hello? Flying monkeys? All we need is Wanda to go steal Voldemort’s shoes, and we can fly back to Kansas.”

“I do not think the Nameless One is wearing shoes,” Thor said. “And even if he were, they would be too big for her tiny feet.”

“Thanks for that one, Mr T.”

I checked his location on the visor’s heads-up display – he was on the wall, Stormbreaker sending out lightning bolts that shot through whole groups of dwarves. He lifted the axe higher, and it caught a flock of monkeys. Every living thing the lightning touched was scorched, blackened and unmoving.

I checked on Wanda again. She was closing the gap between her and Two-Face and oh dear _lord,_ I’d just brought in another movie reference. I had to stop already. I checked the rest of the team; Thor was on the wall, Scott was getting his stomp on, and the Hulk was moving like a wrecking ball across the field, Sam and Rhodey spotting for him. Clint and Peter were up on the tower, though Petey had come down a lot lower than I would have liked. 

Wanda’s sudden hoarse yells hurt my ears, and I wheeled back around to see what was going on. The red glow that enveloped her had almost overwhelmed Voldemort’s green, and now I saw that she had her hands around his neck and was busy throttling the life out of him. She wasn’t that strong, so I knew she was using her magic.

Voldemort dropped to his knees, both sets of arms flailing, long hands grabbing at her coat, her legs, trying to prise her fingers away from his throat and failing. Her hair radiated out from her head in a red-gold nimbus and as I watched, her feet actually left the floor. The look on her face… she was beautiful and terrible, like Galadriel, and I felt like an insignificant insect compared to her. I hated that she could make me feel that way, hated that it reminded me what she’d done to me. What she’d done to others. Getting inside our heads, fuelling our fears.

But she was one of us now. She was fighting on our side and doing a damned good job.

I just had to keep reminding myself of that. 

Voldemort twitched and jerked. Wanda held on, the burn in her eyes visible even from this distance. When she finally let him go, almost tossing his body away, the green glow of his magic snuffed out like a candle flame. The Undying Ones – and the dwarven foot soldiers – screamed, a single, unified howl that made my skin crawl and had F.R.I.D.A.Y damping down the suit’s audio receptors to save my ears. 

Wanda slumped, dropping to her knees, the red glow of her magic diminished. Even super-juiced, I guessed that fight must have really sucked it out of her. 

“Moving to intercept,” I said. I was the closest. With the puppet master dead, there was no telling how the puppets would react, although it was probably a safe bet to say ‘not well’.

“Did she kill him?” Peter asked. I saw him now, lowering himself down the tower. “Did we win?”

“It’s a long road between killing and winning,” I said, casting an anxious look at the flying monkeys. They were wheeling and diving, seemingly without purpose, shrieking and knocking into each other. The dwarves were too busy trying to avoid Scott’s stomping feet. “Hold your position.”

I reached Wanda. Her breathing was unsteady, her skin too pale, nothing more than an echo of red light shining in her eyes. At least her hair had stopped doing that creepy floating nimbus thing.

“Good job,” I said, scooping her up. “Time to go.”

I wondered if she might resist being picked up, but she was limp in my arms. Not a good sign. She weighed hardly anything at all. 

“Nicely done, everyone,” I said, jumping back up. “Sam, Rhodey, any chance you can get Hulk to put his toys down and leave the party?”

“On it,” Sam said. “Come on, old man, show me what you got.”

“Old man?” Rhodey squawked. “Old man? What are you, like twelve? I can’t believe this is the respect I get these days.”

“Yo, Scott!” I called, swooping lower. “Wrap it up, and I’ll give you a ride.”

“Aww. I was having so much fun.” His giant leg lashed out, sending more dwarves flying. “Hang on.”

A moment later the giant vanished as he shrunk down to the size of an ant. I checked his position on my visor, ducking down to let him land on my shoulder as he fell. I still hadn’t quite got used to the whole size-changing thing. 

“Thanks, man,” he said. “Wanda’s got real nice pockets, think I’ll go take a nap.”

“Peter…?” I didn’t see him on the tower, even though he’d been lowering himself down a few seconds earlier. I hovered in the air. “ _Man,_ what’s Peter doing?” I said. “Clint, you got eyes on the kid?”

“He’s… dude, what part of ‘hold your position’ didn’t you get?” Clint barked. “Get back up here!”

“We should take the body back!” Peter said. I saw him now, running across the open parade ground, flinging web at any monsters who got too close.

“We don’t need it!” I shouted, still looking around. The God of Thunder, on the wall and swinging Stormbreaker to get airborne, was closer to him than me. “Thor, be a peach and go pick him up, will ya?”

“I do not think anyone could liken me to a peach,” Thor said, taking flight. “Though my skin is somewhat soft –”

“What do you use, like Clinique for Asgardians or something? Peter!” I yelled. He’d reached Voldemort’s corpse. “Will you get away from that thing already?”

“But S.H.I.E.L.D could study it –”

“You want S.H.I.E.L.D poking around in other dimensions?” 

Thor had almost reached him – was about twenty feet away – when the corpse exploded.

It wasn’t a big explosion. It wasn’t flashy. I couldn’t even hear it, not from this distance. What it did do was cover Peter in viscous green liquid. His startled shout filled my earpiece.

“Petey!” I yelled, putting on an extra burst of speed. “Are you OK?”

“Ew,” he said, trying to wipe the goop off his suit. “This stuff is gross!”

“It smells foul, pup,” Thor said, holding his nose. “There is a stench of evil about that foetid mess.”

I landed hard, skidding in the dirt, trying not to drop Wanda.

“What the hell did I just say?” I shouted. “Did I or did I not tell you to leave that thing alone?” I glanced at it now; the cavity behind the corpse’s chest was visible, ribs blown outward, shrivelled organs ruptured or blown. Green liquid bubbled over everything. 

“Well yeah, but –”

“Zip it,” I growled, reaching out to slap the side of his head. I checked the movement at the last second, not wanting to get Voldemort-juice on my suit. “We’ll discuss this when we get back, where I can shout at you some more.”

The Hulk bounded into view. The big guy was slowing down, but I was pretty sure he still had plenty of miles per gallon. His face twisted when he saw Peter. Sam and Rhodey flew into sight above him.

“What’s happened?” Rhodey asked.

The Hulk sneezed, rubbed his nose, and glared at Peter. One meaty fist shot out and grabbed him, holding him tight, before he bounded away again.

“Oh, Jesus,” I said, shaking my head. “Hulk – Bruce – come on, man, let him go. Some toys you don’t get to play with.”

“I’m OK!” Peter shouted. “I’m OK!”

Sam and Rhodey shot after him, then stopped some distance away.

“Oh,” Sam said.

“‘Oh’?” I got airborne again, careful not to jostle Wanda too much. “You’re telling me ‘oh’? What even does that mean?”

Rhodey sniggered. “It means Hulk just threw your kid in a lake, Tony.”

“That asshole!”

“Which one?”

“Both of ‘em!” I sighed. “Look, someone go collect Clint, OK? I’m gonna go spider fishing.”

And even though I was furious with Peter – and mad at Rhodey – I liked that he’d called him ‘my kid’. 

 

Miraculously, we got everyone back to the Quinjet without further incident. No pursuit from the Sleeping Monkeys and the Seven Million Dwarves, no sneaky magical attacks from the Nameless One. Apart from Petey getting covered in goop, and Wanda’s sudden hench magical abilities, this had been a text-book operation: - get in, complete the mission, get out.

“What in the hell kind of crap did I hear over your communicators?” Fury barked as soon as we’d boarded. Peter – dry now after his impromptu dip, looking thoroughly dejected – buckled himself into a seat, studiously avoiding my eye.

“What, you never bantered during the middle of a fight?” I said, putting Wanda gently down in a seat and strapping her in. F.R.I.D.A.Y’s quick scan had revealed that she was conscious but sleeping deeply. Scott, still in her coat pocket, had also curled up for a snooze. I was too wired to sleep and would be for hours to come.

“What I generally do during the middle of a fight is _fight,_ ” Fury scowled. “Sit your ass down. I want a full debrief when we get back to base.”

“You’re not just dropping us off in the middle of Buttsville, Tennessee?”

His eye glittered. “Hell no. The kid’s going into quarantine. I’ve half a mind to put you _all_ in quarantine.”

I groaned. “See, Peter? This is what happens when you don’t pay attention.”


	31. 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team debrief after their mission.

Without Nat, it took us a little time – and a lot of care – to talk Hulk back into his human skin. After Nat, Thor had the best track record when it came to the big guy; they’d gone through some shit on an alien planet, and while they weren’t exactly BFFs they had a level of respect for each other I’d not seen in them before. They never did tell me exactly what had gone down.

Nobody talked much during the journey out. I was still twitchy, looking through the windows, making sure we weren’t being pursued. There wasn’t a monkey in sight. That was good… but it also worried me. It just didn’t feel right. That I was getting creeped out that we _weren’t_ being pursued told me – as if I needed the reminder – that I’d been in the game too long.

And I was worried about Stephen. We’d only been apart a couple of hours, but this was the first real combat situation since we’d got together. I trusted that he could take care of himself – that Nat and Shuri could take care of themselves – but that didn’t stop me worrying. If he was hurt or… _God,_ no. My brain shied away from ,em>that thought. 

It wasn’t just the idea of Donna losing her Papa that freaked me out. It was the idea of me losing Stephen. In our line of work death was a serious possibility. Six or eight weeks ago, when Stephen was a good friend and nothing more, his death would have upset me. Now… when I was frightened I might be falling in love with him, and trying like hell to deny it… losing him wouldn’t just upset me, it would rip me apart. I’d already gone through something like that kind of grief with Pepper. I couldn’t go through it again… but I was realistic to know that, one day, I probably would. Maybe even sooner rather than later. Ugh. What a mess.

Breaking through from the fucking dungeon dimension into bright daylight felt almost as good as coming back to Earth. The Quinjet banked as it slowed, landing parallel to the gate. Peter was up before the rest of us.

“Sit down,” I grunted. “You’re not stepping foot in this dimension until Fury gives you the all clear.”

“What? That’s not fair –”

“Shoulda thought of that before you went off-grid. Now sit down.”

His jaw clenched, rage flashing through his eyes for a split second before he shut it down. I stared right back. People had been glaring at me for longer than he’d been alive. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but his anger was unusual. It was like a Labrador puppy suddenly ripping up your three-hundred dollar loafers. 

I opened the ramp, letting bright daylight stream inside the Quinjet. I jogged outside to meet the others. Stephen looked good – more than good – and there wasn’t a scratch on him. Shuri and Nat were similarly uninjured. 

The hem of his Coat was rippling again. Definitely not as fun as the Cloak. Maybe when Donna was older, we could talk her into giving it back… although Stephen had said something about the relic choosing the sorcerer. And _man,_ was this not the time to think about my daughter being a sorcerer. Or witch. Or… God.

“Well gosh,” I said, more to distract myself from my own thoughts, “I hope I’m not interrupting you doing your nails or something.”

Nat made a noise. “One more sexist remark and you’re getting throat-jabbed.”

“Oh, you thought I was talking about you and Shuri?”

She smirked, folded her arms, and turned away, giving Stephen and me a measure of privacy. Shuri had no such reservations – she hugged me hard enough to make my ribs creak – then followed after Nat.

We were alone, in as much that no one inside the jet could directly see us. We were below the line of sight of the windows. Fury could see, if he was watching the cameras, but I found that I didn’t give a shit. Even if everyone _could_ see, I still wouldn’t give a shit.

“You have a quiet time?” I asked. His face was streaked with sweat, his hair wet with it, and I realised it must have taken a hell of an effort to keep a gate of this size open for this length of time. 

“You sound almost disappointed.” There was a light in his eyes, expectant, hungry. Oh yeah. When we were alone – properly alone…

“Well, you know. Us working moms have to earn a crust however we can.”

He grabbed my shoulders, pulling me close, his mouth hovering half an inch from mine. It would be so easy to close that little gap between us. He wanted it. I wanted it. But we both understood that we were teasing ourselves.

The flap of cloth around my knees had to be the Coat. It was a disconcerting feeling. Man, I _really_ missed the Cloak.

“I’ve been going out of my head,” Stephen growled. “I know you’re going to go out and fight and God knows I won’t stop you, and I know you won’t stop me, but _Christ –_ ”

“Kinda felt the same way,” I said. 

His breath was warm on my face. I wanted to touch him, reassure myself that he was OK even though I could see that he was fine. But I kept my hands to myself because if I reached out now I’d let him push me back against the Quinjet’s landing gear and… ahem. Public indecency had never stopped me in the past, but as with Fury’s questions, this was neither the time nor the place. 

“I want to know every detail. Particularly how you got those bruises on your face.”

Right now, I couldn’t even feel them. That would change in a couple of hours, when the adrenaline started to wear off, but right now the aches and pains seemed far away.

“Come on,” I said, taking a deliberate, reluctant step back. “Fury’s taking us somewhere for a debrief. Petey got some kind of extra-dimensional gunk on him, so he’s sin-binned.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Wanda got all super-powered and killed the Nameless One. Dude exploded.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should have led with that?”

“What, and missed the opportunity to flirt?” 

 

Fury flew us to yet another secret S.H.I.E.L.D base. For an outlawed and supposedly disbanded organisation, they seemed surprisingly well funded – the underground facility was huge, the security was tight, and I knew the medical facilities would be state of the art. This wasn’t a field base that only had triage capabilities. 

“Peter’s suit’s air-tight,” I murmured to Fury as we escorted Peter through the base. “Pretty sure he’s not carrying any kind of inter-dimensional flu.”

“I’ve learned not to take my chances,” he murmured back. “Besides, you want the lesson to stick, right?”

I snorted. “I think this is something he’s gonna need to learn a couple more times before it sticks. Hyper. As. Dicks.”

 

The debrief took longer than the actual operation, and finally – as we began to wrap things up – the adrenaline rush begun to wear off. Peter was a couple floors down, undergoing a rigorous round of tests, while the rest of us gave our reports. I’d come to hate this part, but I also understood the necessity – this was what the Sokovia Accords could have been, a team of enhanced people under the watchful eye of someone who truly understood the game. I didn’t always trust Fury, and sometimes I thought I hated him, but I sure as hell respected him.

Stephen was particularly interested to hear about Wanda’s part in the fight, asking detailed questions about our recollections of her movements until he’d built up a picture. Most of what she’d done had been obscured by red light – what Stephen referred to as her magical signature – and similarly, Voldemort had been obscured. He didn’t seem the slightest bit amused at my choice of nickname. Whatever. Maybe you had to have been there.

“Extra-dimensional travel is difficult to predict,” he said, studying Wanda through the medical bay’s glass window. She was still sleeping, and he seemed to think she’d stay that way for a day at least. “I’m going to invite her to Kamar-Taj someday soon. She could benefit from intensive study.”

I made a non-committal noise. It was his right to invite whoever he chose to his mystic base of operations – he was the Sorcerer Supreme, after all – and although I respected her abilities, she’d never be my favourite person.

But I wasn’t fooling Stephen. “If you’d rather I didn’t…”

“No, you’re right to invite her,” I said. The Coat was flapping around my knees again. “Stop that, it tickles,” I said in an aside, looking down. When I looked back up, Stephen was smiling. “Everything she does is instinctual, right, or drummed into her by her Hydra handlers. So she needs to be taught that she can do other stuff with her powers.”

His relieved smile made me glad that I hadn’t been a dick about this. I squeezed his shoulder and went off to find Fury.

 

“I’ll make sure Parker gets home in one piece,” the former director said. “We’ll keep him here a couple days, make sure he’s not incubating anything nasty.”

“Alright. Make sure May knows where he is, OK?”

“Already done.” He looked briefly pained, as if he found the memory uncomfortable. “That woman had one or two things to say when I came to collect her nephew.”

“Aww, did she make you cry?”

“Remind me why no-one’s beat the living shit out of you yet, Stark?”

“Because this face is too pretty to beat up,” I said, waving a hand under my chin. 

“Not my type, believe me.”

“Well damn. You’d hurt my feelings if I wasn’t already spoken for.” A sudden rush of emotion made me feel almost giddy; being able to talk about something I’d kept hidden for so long – even if we were only joking about it – was a massive step forward. None of them had batted an eye when they’d realised Stephen and I were together. “But I have to ask, who _is_ your type?”

“Now that’s a story you are never going to hear.”

“So there _was_ someone…”

“Get out of here, Stark.”

 

I could get used to this instant travel. We were in a secret base – I took a couple of steps through the gate – we were back in our Wakandan apartment. Shuri left us with a murmur and a hug, off for yet another debrief, this time with her brother. Though T’Challa was still embroiled in Wakandan business, he’d made it plain he kept a sharp eye on what was happening in the rest of the world. Too often worldwide problems had become Wakandan problems.

When she was gone, we finally had privacy. We had a closed door between us and the outside world. What we didn’t have was Donna, and it was way past time we put that right. 

“Good hunting?” Ramonda asked a few minutes later as the Dora Milaje led us into her suite. The Moses basket was at her feet. I saw a flash of red fabric peeking over the top – the Cloak had realised we were here. I wonder what it would make of the Coat. Professional jealousy?

“We got the job done,” I grunted. Then, “Is that… are you _knitting?_ ” I asked, fascinated by the bundle of yarn in her lap. Beside me, Stephen knelt by the basket, scooping Donna into his arms. She was awake but quiet, blinking sleepily. I tried not to let myself get distracted by the sight of her peeking over Stephen’s shoulder, but man – they were adorable.

The Cloak stretched itself to its full height, totally focussed on Stephen. Or rather, the Coat. The Cloak rustled. The Coat rustled. Then the Cloak sank back down into the Moses basket. And just like that, they were buddies.

“Yes, I’m knitting.” Ramonda held her work up for us to see, ignoring the outerwear interchange. “I didn’t knit for either of my children – the climate is simply too hot in this part of Wakanda – but I learned, as did my mother before me, and my grandmother. It would be an honour to teach your daughter, one day.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

Ramonda laughed. 

I couldn’t get my head around the idea of the Queen Mother teaching Donna how to knit. It just seemed too fantastical. Instead, I moved closer to Stephen, brushing my fingers over the top of the baby’s head, marvelling again at how much hair she’d been born with. Maybe I could put that down to the extra shot of energy she’d got from her mini-ARC reactor. 

Donna’s little eyes opened wide when she realised who was patting her. Her chubby little arms waved at me, knocking against her Papa’s ear, making him wince. I grinned. I was dying to hold her, but I could wait my turn.

“So what’re you knitting?” I asked, reluctantly moving away from them so I could go sit beside Ramonda. 

“A pretty dress,” she said, showing me the half-knitted garment on her needles. The yarn was yellow, with white detail and some complicated design thing going on around the hem. “I intend to make some matching booties, perhaps a bonnet and a cardigan.”

“Cute,” I said, smiling. “But honestly, you don’t have to go to the trouble.”

“Are you going to argue with a Queen, young man?”

Young man? I liked that. “No, ma’am.”


	32. 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission complete and danger over, Stephen and Tony finally take some time for themselves. Tony finally acknowledges to himself that he's in love with Stephen.

“I need to go grab a shower,” I said, when the baby was settled. I could stand and just watch her for hours, but my legs were aching, my back was aching, and my shoulders had been bitching for a couple of hours now. Ah, the joys of being an ageing superhero. 

“I need to check your C-sec incision,” Stephen said immediately. “Make sure the combat hasn’t aggravated the healing process. And you could probably do with a proper medical examination.”

“I’m fine,” I said, already heading for the bathroom.

“You’re forgetting that I know you,” he said. “You’d be bleeding to death and you’d keep it to yourself. You’re a born stoic.”

“Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong,” I said, turning to point my finger at him. He lifted both eyebrows. “Well… mostly wrong.”

“Let me check you over.”

“Do I get a lollipop at the end of it?”

“You’ll get… something.” His voice dropped to a low, husky rumble, making me shiver. 

“Promise?” Did that sound as needy to him as it did to my own ears?

“Behave, and you’ll find out.”

I stood in the bathroom, legs slightly apart, making sure he was watching me. I’d joked earlier about a striptease, but I guess it was me who was getting to do that. I pulled the zip down on my sweat jacket, shrugging it over my shoulders and dumping it in a corner. I lifted the hem of my tank top, pulling it over my head without hesitation and dropping it with the jacket. The air was cool against my bare skin.

Stephen’s eyes roamed over my chest. I didn’t care that he could see the scars of a decade of battles, could see the scars left behind from having the ARC reactor removed. I didn’t care that my belly hadn’t returned to its usual flat state and wouldn’t for a while yet; the soft swell was another reminder – not that either of us needed one – of what we had between us, the physical connection in the form of Donna and the mental connection in the form of… this.

I liked the look on Stephen’s face. The hungry way he stared at me. 

“Alright then,” I said, a challenge in my voice. “Come examine me, Doc.” 

He held his arms out at his sides. The belts holding the Coat unfastened, slithering away from him, while the garment slid down his arms and off. With a flick of his fingers it flew over to the coat rack and settled down. There were still dark patches on his tunic where he’d sweated through the fabric, evidence of the drain keeping the gate open – and opening a subsequent gate to get us back to Wakanda – had taken on him. By rights he should probably go take a nap, but instead here he was, with me.

He stepped closer, slowly, almost as if he was stalking me. My nostrils flared as I caught the scent of his sweat. My cock, already half-hard, stiffened fully, pushing against my sweatpants. He just smelled so goddamned good. 

His hand curled around my hip, the jutting bone already pushing my sweatpants low. The fingers of his other hand ghosted over my belly, finding the dressing on the surgery incision. He eased it away from my skin; he was gentle, but I still winced when the adhesive snagged on short hairs. He leaned forward and kissed me, as gentle as his fingers, but it was more than enough to take the sting away from the dressing. His scent – spicy, tangy – filled my nose, made it hard to think. That was OK. I didn’t want to think.

He turned and dropped it in the waste bin, returning immediately. His fingers traced the clean pink scar of the incision.

“See?” I murmured. “All healed up. Whatever Shuri did post-op, it worked.”

“Let me check your bruises.” It was a gruff command, something I’d usually fight against, but I didn’t want to fight that. I kept myself still as his hands came up to my face, fingertips tracing the edge of bruises that I could still barely feel. I opened my mouth and caught the tip of his thumb. His eyes widened, startled, as he drew a sharp breath. That was good. I liked being able to surprise him.

I worked my tongue over his thumb. He eased it a little deeper into my mouth. I sucked it, watching the way his eyes flickered.

As he moved his hands away – thumb popping out of my mouth – I noticed they were trembling harder than ever. We both tried to come across as so confident and in control, but like this? Neither of us could hide how we felt. I’d been a fool to think that our one-night stand should never happen again, that it had been a mistake. The real idiocy had been thinking I could patch things up with Pepper. 

His hands moved over my chest and now it was my turn to tremble. I wanted to reach out and touch him but I held myself in check, drawing out the anticipation as long as I could. His touch was feather-light, brushing over my nipples, drawing them into stiff peaks.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?”

“You’re going to need a certain amount of… care and attention,” he drawled. His eyes were sparkling. “Starting immediately. Now take off the rest of your clothes and get in the shower.”

I usually bucked against orders but this was one I was happy to follow. I kicked off my sneakers, pushing down my sweatpants and boxers, taking my socks along with them. I shoved everything aside. When I straightened, naked as the day I was born, Stephen was fumbling with his own clothes, his fingers suddenly clumsy. I stepped forward and helped him, pulling the tunic over his head, moving his hands away from yet another belt. I thought he might reject the assistance, but instead he let me help him.

Seeing his bare chest again… it was goddamned beautiful. He didn’t have a lot of hair – just a thin trail arrowing down from his belly button – but he had his own scars, plenty of them. Perfect pink little nipples that I longed to touch, to lick, to bite. 

Stephen was built on slender lines, lean and wiry, and his skin was pale as marble. But when I finally touched him he was warm, almost hot, and the trigger broke my self-control – I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him close, and kissed him. He groaned against my mouth, hands clamping on my ass, grinding against me.

“You’re still wearing too much,” I growled.

“Get in the shower. I’ll be right behind you.”

The walk-in shower was more than big enough for two of us, and my mind was flooded with fantasies of what the next few minutes might hold. 

What I hadn’t been expecting was for us just to have a shower. 

It was the most erotic shower I’d ever taken in my life, with his hands working gently but surely over every part of my body apart from the one place I needed him to touch, but still – just a shower. I returned the favour – or maybe it was revenge? – and washed away the sweat of his earlier magical labours, getting to know how his body felt under my fingers. I traced over his shoulders, kneading the knots of tension away as best I could; I slid my palms over his ribs; I laid my palm over his belly, fighting my need to just move my hand down a couple of inches and touch his cock. But no – he hadn’t touched me like that, so I wasn’t going to touch him. But God. 

We dried each other. It was a surprisingly intimate act, making me feel even closer to him while still making me ride that knife-edge of desire. Finally – _finally_ – we moved out into the bedroom. I looked at the baby monitor. Not a peep. Donna was still sleeping.

I reached for Stephen as we moved to the bed, but his hand on my wrist stopped me. His eyes held mine, seemed to bore into me, and I couldn’t look away.

“I need you to be sure about this,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Neither of us are drunk now. You can’t hide behind alcohol.”

I was stung by his words and tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened. 

“I mean it,” he said. “Flirting seems like second nature to you, and I…” He looked away for a moment, closed his eyes, then looked back. “I don’t always know whether it’s genuine. With me, I mean.”

Suddenly I understood, and I stopped trying to pull away. He was usually so closed down, but he’d allowed me a glimpse of his emotional insecurities. 

“It’s genuine,” I said. “With you, it was always genuine. I can’t help…” I sighed. “I’m sorry if I come off flirty with other people. I guess I’ve always just used it as a way to deflect any real conversation.” 

He smiled. The hand on my wrist slid lower, his fingers twining with mine as he tugged me closer. 

“We’re having a real conversation right now,” he said.

“Hmm, talking wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” I slid my arm around his waist. “So to really drive home my answer, I’m sure. I’m sure I want this. I wanted it even before I got drunk that night, only I was too pig-headed to accept it.”

“What’s that?” Stephen asked, his eyes sparkling. “Tony Stark admitting that he could be pig-headed about something?”

“I’m gonna get you a little plaque or something made up,” I said, darting in close to kiss his cheek. “There’s gonna be an engraving of a pot.” I kissed the corner of his mouth, moving back as he drew a ragged breath and tried to follow. “And an engraving of a kettle.”

Stephen swooped – there was no other word for it – and hauled me tight against him, bending his head to kiss me. His tongue pushed past my lips, sliding over my teeth, making me gasp. I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and his hip with the other, kissing him without reservation, the way I’d wanted to for so long now. The few stolen kisses we’d shared over the last month – even our first kiss back on the ship – had all been leading up to this point: - both of us sober, both of us wanting. Both of us going in with eyes wide open. 

We stumbled back toward the bed, but Stephen stopped us just before we tumbled down. Instead we were able to climb on without bouncing, but he didn’t let me go far; his hands closed on my hips, flipping me over with barely a grunt of effort. He was stronger than he looked, something I delighted in testing to its limit over the days to come, if he let me. The idea of a future that contained this – the desire, the closeness, the understanding – was dizzying. It was also addictive as fuck. 

I looked up at him as I lay on my back. Somewhere between the bathroom and the bed my towel had fallen off, and my cock stood up, ready and looking for some attention. Stephen stared at it, audibly swallowing, before moving up to my face. Fire burned in his eyes. He opened his towel and threw it away, and it was my turn to stare. I followed the thin trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock. We’d seen each other naked in the shower, had washed each other clean, but that was nothing more than a warm up to the main event.

We moved at the same time, almost diving for each other, coming together in a tangle of lips, arms and legs. He was trying to be gentle, I could sense it, but I didn’t want gentle. I wanted rough. I wanted everything he had to give, a reminder that he’d been here before. That my body had felt his touch before, and welcomed him back. 

I pushed him onto his back, kneeling between his open legs and bracing my hands on either side of his shoulders, almost trapping his arms against his body. He managed to grab my waist, hands splaying over my ass. I dipped my head and kissed his chest, letting my lips go where they wanted, exploring his skin. I found a nipple and flicked my tongue out, tasting him, feeling the shape of that little pink nubbin. Stephen let out a strangled sound, hands tightening on my ass, urging me on. I let my teeth graze his nipple. His groan went straight to my cock. His fingers dipped into the crease of my ass, pulling my cheeks apart, his restless movements a visible reminder – not that I needed another one – of his arousal.

Slowly, I bit his nipple, digging my front teeth into the tender lump just enough to make him cry out. The sound was ragged, a man already struggling with his self-control, and we’d barely started. If I wasn’t so desperate for more – more kissing, more touching, more _everything_ – I knew I could take my time, trace all of his chest with my tongue, drive him mad. I _wanted_ to drive him mad, to crack that veneer of emotional distance and find the real man beneath. 

But however much we both wanted to draw this out, I think we both knew it wasn’t going to be possible. We were both still wired from the earlier mission, the dregs of adrenaline in our systems ensuring that we started high and could only go higher. 

The tip of his fingers found my hole, making it twitch, making me suck his nipple into my mouth. My startled moan was muffled against his chest. Breathing hard, I drew back so that I could see his face. His pupils were blown, huge, dark circles against the grey of his irises.

He worked a hand between our bodies. The touch of his fingers on my cock was enough to make my hips jerk. His low, throaty chuckle was sexy as hell, and I ducked low again, kissing him hard, feeling him return it with enough force to mash my lips back against my teeth. He worked my cock with firm, confident movements, making me tremble, making me lose the strength in my arms. My elbows buckled and I found myself laying on his body. He released my cock, sliding it away, putting his hand back on my ass. 

I couldn’t stop kissing him. Each kiss was slower this time, but deep, so deep. My hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. His heartbeat pounded against my chest, a heady echo of my own. A thin layer of sweat had already built up on our skin, and it was the easiest thing in the world to slide against him. The sensations as my cock moved over his belly were intense, and I slowed down, not wanting to come too soon. 

But Stephen had no such reservations. Copying my movements, he undulated against me, his cock sliding over my skin as we kissed. His hands, still on my ass, clamped down. I wanted more. I needed more.

I finally managed to drag my mouth away from his. His movements stopped as he met my eyes; I don’t know what he saw there, but it was enough to make him try to kiss me again. While I was totally happy with that, if we carried on this way, this would be over a lot sooner than I wanted.

“I’m ready,” I whispered in his ear. He kissed the side of my face, lips tracing the line of my beard, hovering half an inch from my mouth.

“Sure?”

Still, he was uncertain. I was stretched out on top of him, grinding against his cock, and he still wasn’t sure. 

“God, yes.”

He removed a hand from my ass. I didn’t see what he did, but a moment later a small bottle of lube and a strip of condoms thumped beside us on the bed, so I guessed he’d opened a gate. I shivered, desire mixing with sudden, unexpected anxiety: - this was real. This was happening. I could back out at any time, but I didn’t want to.

He handed me the bottle. I understood. He wanted to watch while I prepared myself for him, and _fuck,_ I wanted him to watch.

With a little bit of careful movement, I rearranged myself so that I was sitting between his legs, my own legs draped over his hips, my ass on display. I was vulnerable. Exposed. So turned on I could barely think, my cock still hard and knocking against my belly. The look on Stephen’s face was intense; his eyes were on fire, kiss-swollen lips parted, hectic colour across his cheeks. His hair was beautifully dishevelled. I fixed that look in my memory, burned it into my mind.

I opened the bottle, squeezed some lube onto my fingers. Slid them over my hole. The lube was cool. I eased a finger inside, enjoying the faint but pleasurable stretch, enjoying even more the way Stephen fisted his cock. He pumped once, twice, real slow. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he moved his hand away, as if he didn’t trust himself not to stop jacking off until he’d come. While I wanted to see that – yearned to see ropes of sticky come on his pale, flushed chest – both of us had something else in mind.

Slowly, I worked another finger inside, scissoring them. It was tight. In a way I was glad I’d been a little drunk that night; the bits and pieces I remembered had been frenetic, rough, without much consideration for taking things slow. From either of us. This time, although we were both still desperate, there was a lot more consideration on both sides. I saw it there in his eyes, heard it in his voice. He’d go as fast or as slow as I dictated. 

I moved my fingers in and out a few times. God. That was good. Stephen’s hands closed over my knees, sliding up my thighs.

“That is so goddamn hot,” he growled, his eyes burning into mine. 

“Right back at ya.”

He fumbled for a condom as I pulled my fingers out, then rearranged myself again – I got my knees on either side of his hips, scooting back until I felt the length of his cock slap against my ass. Stephen ripped open the packet. Even though we were miles away from the Sanctum and the Swaddling Cloth, neither of us wanted to take the risk that the Cloak would try to interfere again. One unnatural birth was enough for me.

His hands disappeared behind me, presumably rolling the condom into place. At my questioning look, he nodded, the movement jerky and abrupt. He wanted this as much as I did, maybe even needed it as much as I did, but he was still fighting to keep control of himself. I intended to shatter that control.

After a little more careful positioning, I had the head of his cock positioned at my hole. I lowered myself down, bit by bit, feeling the stretch turn into a sting, then a burning pain. I breathed slowly, staring into his eyes, hoping that he was as incapable of looking away as I was. I braced my hands on his shoulders. He gripped the back of my thighs.

Finally he was buried inside me all the way. I leaned forward, pressing my chest against his, arms twining around his neck as I kissed him. Slow. Slower than he wanted, but I pulled back as he tried to speed up, reminding him that I was going to set the pace. The steady burn in his eyes told me that he was close to the edge. I wanted to see that. God, how I wanted to see.

I kissed him again, letting my ass adjust to being so full. When the burn began to fade, I rocked forward experimentally, testing his reactions as much as mine. He drew a sharp breath and bit my tongue.

“Sorry,” he croaked.

“Don’t apologise,” I murmured, burying my face against his neck as I continued rocking against him. It felt so good – too good – that I was almost frightened to move any faster, because when I came it was going to kill me.

But my body had other ideas, and after a few more seconds gentle rocking, I sat up, leaning back a little, bracing my hands against the bed. The new position pushed him even deeper inside me to the point where every stroke brushed against my prostate. My fingers clenched on the blanket, head falling back as the rest of my body tensed. His hands gripped my ass, helping me rise and fall, moving with me.

He sat up, arms closing around me, lips dragging across mine for another kiss. It was scorching, his desire hot enough to burn, but I couldn’t stop. The way we moved together was perfect. Devastating. He wasn’t just inching closer to the edge, he was running, his face contorted as if he was in pain. Pain of the sweetest kind.

I grabbed his pecs in both hands, palms moving roughly over his pebble-hard nipples, fingers digging into his ribs. It seemed to be the only trigger he needed; he ducked his head, hiding his face against my chest as he came, his final, frantic thrusts stopping as his whole body trembled. His moans were stifled against my collarbone. He was still trembling as I tilted his face back up, his grey eyes wide and shocked at the intensity of his orgasm, mouth parted, lips inviting. I kissed him and grabbed my cock, ass muscles squeezing out the last of his pleasure. It didn’t take much – a few quick, hard jerks – and I was coming, groaning against his mouth, eyes screwed shut. My body tightened; I wrenched my eyes open, needing to see his face, unable to look away for long. I shot across his chest and abs, and across mine.

Finally I collapsed against him, a sweaty, sticky, panting mess, wrapping my arms tight around him. He held me, letting us both drop back against the bed, his breath nothing more than harsh gasps in my ear. He was still trembling and I realised that I was too, the come down from such an intense orgasm impossible to control, addictive and frightening all at once.

But the come and sweat drying on my body cooled as it dried, becoming tacky and uncomfortable. I eased off of him, my ass stinging but still twitching with the final remnants of pleasure. His arms tightened around me – he didn’t want to let me up.

But I kept moving, and he let me go. It felt wrong to move away from him, even the few paces it took to go into the bathroom and run a towel under the faucet. I hurried back. His smile lit up the room – exhausted but sexy as hell, his eyes warm and inviting. 

The condom was gone, maybe gated back to wherever Stephen had got his supplies. I wiped us down with a gentle hand, tossed the towel in the vague direction of the bathroom, and let Stephen pull me against him. A nap right now sounded absolutely wonderful –

Donna’s thin cry sounded over the baby monitor. We looked at each other, half-amused, half-exasperated. 

“Stay,” Stephen said. “You need to sleep. I’ll go.”

 

I stayed where I was for a couple of minutes, enough to hear Donna’s cries diminish into sleepy snuffling, but the need to see them together drove me out of bed. I snagged my boxers and pulled them back on, then padded out to the nursery.

Stephen, looking relaxed in sleep pants and nothing else, sat on the little two-seat sofa, Donna cradled in his arms, her little fists batting excitedly at the bottle he held against her mouth. She barely stopped sucking long enough to breathe, and I couldn’t contain the soft, dopey smile that spread across my face.

He patted the seat beside him, his eyes darkening, an echo of desire tilting his lips into a smile. I sat down, drawing my feet up beneath me, angling myself so that I could see them both. Something about the image they made – Donna with her Papa – just kind of… short-circuited my brain. They looked so perfect together.

This. This right here. I’d fight until I was bloody, until I couldn’t move, to protect this little slice of family life. Even though I’d wanted to marry Pepper, I’d never once thought we’d have something like this, hadn’t even been able to picture her holding our kid. But now I _did_ have a family. I loved Donna without reservation, with my whole heart, and I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

And Stephen… yeah, I was pretty sure I’d fallen in love with him.


	33. 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter reaches out to Tony, struggling to juggle all the different aspects of his life. Tony agrees that he and Stephen will return to New York for a visit.  
> Staying in the Sanctum, the sleepless nights finally begin to take their toll.

We kept waiting for news of another Undying One attack, but there was nothing – taking out the head had, it seemed, killed the body. Fury’s doctors gave Peter the all-clear and returned him to his aunt. He never told me exactly what May’s reaction was to his unexpected delay, but I had a pretty good idea.

I spent some time thinking about how I felt for Stephen, looking at things from different angles. Each time I considered it, I reached the same conclusion: - I loved him. He understood me in ways that no one else did; he understood my motivations, my fears, my drive, because he’d lived through them himself. He was my baby-daddy. Every time I pictured him holding Donna, something soft and warm spread through my chest. 

But even though I’d acknowledged to myself how I felt about him, I wasn’t ready to share my feelings just yet. I knew he cared about me – everything he’d done so far proved that – but I didn’t want to test whether his emotions ran any deeper. I was scared, but I don’t know what scared me more… that he loved me too, or that he didn’t. 

 

“Yo, P-Man.”

“Hey, Tony! I didn’t expect you to call!”

Peter sounded bright and cheerful, as always, despite the time difference. I walked up and down the lounge, bouncing Donna a little in my arms as I talked to Peter on speakerphone. It had been a couple of weeks since the whole Voldemort thing, and while life hadn’t exactly got back to normal, Stephen and I had kind of settled into a pattern.

“Well, your text sounded kinda down.” A holographic projection of his message still floated across the air at eye level. I waved a hand and it disappeared. Donna – probably reacting to my movement more than anything else – reached out with both tiny hands. 

“Yeah.” His tone fell. “Sorry to dump that on you. It’s just… things are getting, I don’t know… kind of…” His voice faded away.

“Hard?” I asked. His text had been vague – only that he was struggling, and needed someone to talk to. Like I was going to let that kind of message go unanswered? Sometimes even this shitty substitute dad knew when he had to pick up the ball.

“Yeah!” He jumped on the conversational lifeline. “See, May’s always on my case, MJ’s being… I don’t know, I have no idea how girls think, and schoolwork’s a _drag…_ ” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. You’re busy with Donna, I shouldn’t have wasted your time –”

“Look, you’re basically my kid,” I said, feeling my heart clench at the idea that he didn’t think I’d want to hear about his day-to-day life. “Anytime we talk is not a waste of time. You got that?”

“But teenager stuff…”

“Everyone was a teenager once.” Helping him now was the right thing to do – the _responsible_ thing to do – and would be great practise for when Donna got to that age. Although I had the sneaking suspicion that nothing could prepare me for dealing with a magical, super-powered teenaged girl. “Except maybe Fury, I think that asshole just kind of got crapped out of the Universe at like age thirty or something, pissed as hell and looking for a little payback.”

“God, don’t let him hear you say that.” His laugh was as carefree and infectious as I remembered. Donna, responding to the noise, let out a giggle of her own. I beamed at her. 

“Did you hear that?” I asked Peter, looking at Donna’s face with eyes stretched deliberately wide. “Baby’s first giggle. Oh yes it was.”

“How’s she doing?” he asked. He sounded wistful. 

“She’s good. Great. Perfect.” I swooped in and kissed her cheek, making a raspberry sound that made her squeal and giggle again. “And delicious. I could just eat her all up.”

“Can I come visit soon?”

“You can visit whenever you want, you know that. You just gotta ask Stephen if he can gate you in. And nice way to distract me from your issues, by the way, real good job there.”

“Uh… thanks?” He sounded embarrassed. 

“Deflection is one of the best things you can learn. _My_ father taught me that.” I grimaced, looking away from Donna, rolling my eyes at my own idiocy. “But he was kind of an absent role model, so just forget I said that.”

“What was he like?”

“Conversation for another day. Now stop deflecting and tell me everything.” 

 

‘Everything’ boiled down to the fact that Petey was an almost-seventeen-year-old superhero. Regular teenagers had three facets to their life – school, family, hobbies. Spider-Man had four, and he hadn’t worked out how to make those facets balance yet. I hadn’t told him so, but the whole work/life balance thing was something I think we all struggled with, even those like Natasha who didn’t have any living biological relatives. We all had things – or people – that we wanted. In my own ham-fisted attempts to find a balance, my relationship with Pepper had paid the price. 

I hoped I wouldn’t make the same mistakes with Stephen. Because the consequences this time wouldn’t just be my relationship, they’d be Donna’s happiness. Older – yes. Wiser? God, I hoped so.

“I know you probably haven’t had a chance to think about it much,” Peter said when he’d finished unloading, “but maybe you and Stephen could come back to New York for like a visit or something? Couple of days?”

Peter was my responsibility every bit as much as Donna was. He wasn’t my son by birth, but he looked to me for guidance, to show him the way in the world, and while I’d been so caught up with my little girl, I’d kind of left him to flounder. Now that the Nameless One and his flying monkeys were gone, it was time to step up to my other responsibilities. The world was moving on without me, and it was time to work out what I wanted to do with the new opportunities I’d been given. 

“Sure,” I said. “Why not? It’ll be good to get back to the Big Apple.” I kept my tone casual, relaxed, but I was tense inside: - I had no intention of leaving Donna behind this time, which meant deciding how I was going to handle the whole publicity thing. 

“For real?”

“Said it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah! Totally!” I didn’t need to see him to know he’d be sat there with a goofy grin across his face. 

“Alrighty then. I’ll be in touch. Stay safe, buddy.”

 

I was grabbing a quick nap on the couch – my sleeping patterns were shot, trying to sleep when Donna did – when I became aware of warmth on the soles of my feet. My toes twitched through the socks, exploring while they let my brain get on with the business of recharging, but as soon as they’d worked out that they were inching along a solid thigh, the rest of me woke up pretty quick. Even though I was eager to see Stephen – these days I was always eager to see Stephen – my eyelids had all-out rebelled. 

“I’m trying to wake up,” I mumbled. “My face has gone on strike.”

“Go back to sleep,” Stephen murmured. His hands eased over the arches of my feet, applying gentle pressure, fingers curling around my ankles as his thumbs dug into places I hadn’t even realised were tense. 

“Not a chance with you touching me like that.”

“Ticklish?” 

“No. Just imaging you putting your hands in other places.” 

I finally managed to get my eyes open. He was away at least a couple of hours every day, dealing with Sanctum business, but he always came home every night. I wasn’t sure that would last; he was a workaholic, like me, and it was only his need to see Donna that brought him back.

Well. Maybe it was his need to see me, too. Certainly judging by the way he looked at me with eyes half-lidded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I stopped trying to second-guess myself and reacted to the heat on his face, rolling onto my back so that I could see him properly, feet braced against his thigh. He’d ditched the Coat – I could just see it, hanging on the rack – and changed into slacks and a lightweight shirt. It was always a little odd seeing him in casual wear, but it was good to know that he _could_ relax. His role as Sorcerer Supreme was important to him, but he wasn’t married to the job.

“Right now I’m debating whether to take you to bed and let you sleep, or to fuck you until you can’t move,” he purred.

Oh my _God._ My cock, already twitching with interest, hardened to full, shocking stiffness, something he couldn’t fail to see as it pressed against my sweatpants. A second later his eyes dipped down, lingered for a moment, and moved back up to my face. I’d learned pretty quick that when we had sex – when he finally let himself go enough to show me the man behind his prickly exterior – he had a filthy mouth. And I loved it, whether he was using it to talk dirty or to wrap around my dick. I loved even more that he felt relaxed enough around me to let that mouth out even when we weren’t having sex. 

“There’s no reason why one can’t follow the other,” I said, hands resting lightly on my belly as I looked at him. “Quite a lot of the other, if Donna stays asleep long enough. I’ll let you work out which way ‘round.” 

His rich chuckle made me shiver. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Oh…” I checked my watch. “No. Forgot the time.”

“Let me fix something up.”

“I’m not really hungry,” I said. He’d been out dealing with mystical shit for hours; I wouldn’t let him cook on top of that. “I can get you something, though.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he drawled. His eyes flicked back down to my cock; this time it was longer before he looked at my face. “Here’s a compromise – how about I gate down to N’Bene and grab us a meal?”

“I could go a cheeseburger.”

His smile was teasing. “When can you _not_ go a cheeseburger?”

“Well, sometimes I’m asleep. Oh, Peter called today,” I said, remembering the earlier call. “He wants us to come to New York for a visit. He’s having a few problems juggling the whole superhero thing with his home and school life, and I think he needs a little TLC.”

Stephen, who’d already started to get up, hesitated. He sat back down again.

“OK,” he said. “Not a problem. Tell me when you want to go and I’ll gate us in.”

I wasn’t fooled. His tone was casual, but the tension in his body was obvious to me. If we went back to New York – for whatever reason – he was frightened our bubble would burst. There was no way I’d ever go back to Pepper, but I knew it played on his mind. I knew the idea that I might ditch him for a woman played on his mind, too.

Ten years ago, one or other of those things might have been true. Even five years ago, I’d have moved mountains to go back to Pepper. But even though I’d loved her, time had proven that, whatever she’d said, she hadn’t really loved me. These days, although I wasn’t exactly OK with that – certainly not OK with the mess I’d become in the aftermath of our break-up – I was on a new path, and Stephen was with me. Donna was with me. Peter was with me. And I was definitely OK with all of those things. 

I made myself sit up, even though my body was doing its best to keep me flat against the cushions. I draped an arm over the back of the couch. 

“Nothing’s going to change between us,” I said, pitching my voice low.

He grimaced. “And here I was thinking I was doing an excellent job hiding how I felt.”

I smiled, a fleeting expression that didn’t last. “Don’t forget that I know you. Just like you know me.”

His eyes slid away. “How do you want to handle things with Donna? The moment you show your face somewhere in public…” He let the sentence trail off, but I knew what he meant. He was talking about the media train that had followed me around for most of my life.

“Been thinking about that. Been thinking about a lot of things.” That made him look back to me. “I’ve never been backward in coming forward, right? So I figure I just release a statement. Announce that we have a child. I’m not gonna haul her out right there and then, I do want her to have privacy for as long as possible, but –”

“You don’t care that you’ll be exposing… us?”

Rather than setting his mind at ease, I’d made his tension worse. God. I was an idiot.

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing,” I said, swinging my legs off the couch so that I could scoot around and sit beside him, elbows braced on my knees. “I’ve come too far through my life to give a shit what people think about me now. I’ve been to other planets. I’ve been to other dimensions. I’ve been pregnant.” I let out a short, hard laugh. “Life’s short. It’s fragile. I want to be happy. Is that so much to ask?”

He smiled, something moving in the depths of his eyes, the light I loved to coax out of him.

“No,” he said. “It’s not so much to ask.”

 

Over dinner, Stephen and I wrote a statement announcing that we were a couple and that we’d adopted a baby girl. I got F.R.I.D.A.Y to transmit it to all the major news networks across the world. 

As expected, the world went nuts; depending on your source, I’d been a closet gay all my life (half right – closest bi); I was a terrible father (possibly true, but I’d do everything in my power to make that false); I was banging half the other Avengers (hell no – apart from Stephen and, occasionally, Steve Rogers, not a damned one of them floated my boat). Rumour fought against the little truth that was actually out there.

I stayed in Wakanda and weathered the storm. Stephen still had to go back to the Sanctum every day or so, but he stayed out of sight as much as he could.

And in just a couple of weeks, I was old news. It happened gradually at first; there was some new bad guy, and a couple of the Avengers stepped up to take him out, which pushed me back to the second page. There were a couple of natural disasters. S.H.I.E.L.D got re-vamped and legal again, with Daisy Johnson as their now official Director, probably taking advice from that asshole Fury. With each new event, my little family unit got pushed further back in the news, and honestly, I was OK with that.

We stayed in constant contact with Petey. I called him every couple of days, told him what was going on, asked how he was getting on with school and May and MJ. Every time he sounded lonely… and tired, reminding me (not that I’d ever needed a reminder) that he was a scared kid trying to find his place in the world.

“That’s it,” I said after one particularly difficult call where I’d had to do all the work. “He’s stopped sounding like a human Labrador. Someone kicked my puppy and we need to go cheer him up, like, _now._ ” Most of his answers had been flat, mono-syllabic, lacking any of his usual sparkle or brightness. It was almost as if he was a different person.

I shied away from the word _depression._ But it was a real possibility. I knew jack about teenagers, but I did know that the stresses of life could be enough to tear them apart. Add the whole superhero thing into the mix…

Stephen nodded. “Alright. Get Donna ready, and I’ll let Shuri know we’ll be away for a few days.” At my raised eyebrows, he amended, “A week? Or two?”

We were staying – or at least, I was staying – for as long as Peter needed me. My father had never been there when I needed him, and that was one mistake I had no intention of repeating.

 

Stephen gated us directly to the Sanctum. He’d shouldered part of what I called the baby-train – bags of diapers, cream, powder, formula, bottles, clothes, the cutest little rattle Shuri had given her, a couple of knitted outfits from Ramonda, and who could forget the Lost City of Atlantis? It was a tight squeeze, but I had it shoved into one of the side pockets. These bags were _heavy._ Donna floated beside me in the hover-stroller. 

“Tony.” Wong’s smile as he greeted us in the hallway was genuine and unexpected. “And this must by Donna?”

I held back a sarcastic retort, nodding instead. This was the first time I’d seen Wong since I’d tried to sneak out after waking up next to Stephen. He hadn’t judged. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d wanted me to stay, for Stephen’s sake.

With the benefit of hind-sight, I wished I’d stayed, too. But my head hadn’t been in the right place to have any kind of ‘morning after the night before’ conversation. 

I wondered now if you could ever be ready for that kind of conversation. 

 

We let Wong hold Donna while we made small talk. The Cloak of Levitation – her constant companion – hovered protectively at her side. Wong gave Stephen a knowing look.

“Yes,” Stephen sighed, “it belongs with her now. And yes, I know exactly what that means.”

“I can help you search the archives for any records of such a thing happening in the past.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said. “As you can appreciate, I haven’t had the time to do that.”

“Leave it to a librarian, huh?” I said, clapping Wong on the shoulder. 

“Yes,” he said, deadpan. “It’s amazing what you can learn from a book.”

“He’s being mean to me,” I said, turning to Stephen. “You heard that, right? He’s being mean to me.”

“The Sorcerer Supreme doesn’t take sides.” But he was smiling. 

I nudged him. “Asshole.”

 

The time difference between New York and Wakanda was nine hours. When I’d called Peter it had been around four in the afternoon, his time, and around one in the morning Wakanda time. Peter didn’t know it yet, but we were going to meet him for breakfast. And if I could avoid May, so much the better.

Stephen and I were both bone tired – Donna’s sleep had been particularly fractious since we came back from the Nameless One’s dimension – so we headed straight up to Stephen’s room. I’d installed extendable legs in the hover-stroller, and adjustable sides, so with the push of a few buttons we had a decent portable cot.

I got Donna settled. Stephen stifled a yawn and shrugged out of the Coat of Possibilities. Despite the time we’d spent together, I still had no idea what the Coat was capable of, beyond self-propulsion. 

“Maybe you should start inventing equipment for babies,” Stephen suggested.

“God, no.” I shuddered at the idea. “Missiles to baby carriers?” Just the idea of that grated against my soul, the contrast way too jarring.

“Why not?”

“It just feels wrong. I’m not sure I want to be tied down to just one industry sector, either.”

“You seemed pretty tied down to the weapons industry.”

“Not a part of my life I’m proud of.”

“And the Iron Man suits.”

“Personal project. Look, I just wanna make things that’ll make people’s lives better, OK?”

“Come to bed, Tony. You’re cranky when you’re tired.”

“Oh my God. You’re trying to handle me. You’re actually trying to handle me.”

He paused with his hands on one of his many belts, sighed, then pulled me close to him. 

“Sleep.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

I wasn’t letting him get away that easily. I grabbed the front of his tunic and kissed him, pushing my tongue past his lips, but the plan backfired immediately; when I pulled back, his eyes were burning, but I knew mine were, too.

“Sleep,” I agreed.

His arms twined around me, hands sliding under my shirt. “But first…”

“With Donna in the room? Tacky, man.”

“She’s not going to remember it…” His lips traced a trail along my cheek, from my jaw to my ear.

“Still tacky.”

He drew back, licking his lips, swallowing, but he didn’t let me go.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Just sleep, then.”

 

But Donna had other ideas about that, too. She seemed even more restless in New York than she had in Wakanda; she normally slept for about four hours, woke, fussed, then settled again. Now, the time between sleeps was shorter, and it took her longer to settle. She was fractious, anxious, and unsettled.

“You don’t think she’s starting to teeth or something?” I asked, after I’d got up for the… I don’t know, second or third time. We were taking it in turns, but it was already taking a toll. 

“Not until she’s at least six months.” Stephen shrugged. “Maybe she just doesn’t like New York.”

“Could be the change in time zones is messing with her?” I asked, feeling my anxiety growing by the minute. Stephen’s earlier assertion that I got cranky when I was tired was true, but what was also true was that my anxiety levels sky-rocketed when I didn’t get enough sleep. The months after the Battle of New York, I’d barely slept a wink, and my whole life had suffered as a consequence.

“I don’t think babies have much of a concept of time zones.” Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose; I could tell he was close to snapping at me, and God knew I didn’t want to push him over the edge, but I felt as if I couldn’t stop myself. “They follow their own sleeping pattern. Or at least they would, if they were good, _well-behaved_ babies.”

“Right, because babies totally get the concept of a schedule. And good behaviour.”

“She must get it from her Daddy then,” Stephen grunted.

“At least she didn’t inherit a whole bunch of magical power from me,” I snapped right back.

“No, she just inherited nanites that turn her skin into metal!”

“Oh, don’t hold back!” I growled, feeling a hard knot of pain spring to life in my chest, growing by the second. “Tell me how you really feel!”

“Dammit, Tony, why do you always have to make everything about you?”

“Well excuse me for having feelings!” Donna – who had, at last, been starting to drift off – started crying again, a thin, high-pitched wail that grated on my ears. “Great,” I snarled. “You set her off again!”

“ _I_ set her off? How about you and your drama?”

“ _My_ drama? You’re the one who flounces around in a goddamned magic coat!”

“ _Flounce?_ ”

We both turned as the door opened, Wong’s head poking through.

“Go away!” we both yelled. Donna’s wail cranked up to a full-on scream that made me want to hide my head in my arms.

Wong – with the patience of a saint – ignored our histrionics. A part of me knew that we were only acting out because we were so tired, but once we’d started it was so hard to stop.

“Would you like me to take Donna for a few hours?” Wong asked, his eyes flicking between us.

The implication – that we couldn’t cope with looking after our own daughter – didn’t sit well, and I’d already opened my mouth to tell him to get lost. But Stephen’s quelling look stopped me. 

“I think we would both benefit from a little unbroken sleep,” he said, pressing a few buttons on the hover-carrier so that the drive kicked in, the legs folded up and the high sides slid back into the housing. “Thank you, Wong.”

“What he said,” I muttered. The carrier floated over to Wong, guided by Stephen’s magic rather than the tiny directional thrusters I’d installed. “I, uh, I guess I’m not the only one who gets cranky.”

“Goodnight, Tony.” Wong made a few arcane passes, taking control of the carrier. “Rest well.”

The door swung shut behind him. I didn’t know which sorcerer had closed it, and really, it didn’t matter. I had some apologies to make. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What I said about magic. That was unfair.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He patted the bed beside him, the sheets I’d left behind rumpled. He twitched his fingers and the wrinkles straightened out. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

We both knew what it cost the other to apologise. We looked at each other for a moment, silent, and then I climbed back into bed.

“I _do_ make everything about me,” I said, snuggling against his side when he held his arm open. “I need to work on that.”

“I think sometimes – just sometimes,” he qualified at my sharp look, “you’re entitled to make it about you.”

“I’d like to blame it on dear old dad,” I sighed. “He was always just so damned wrapped up in his work, I felt I had to be better just to get his attention. But I’m an adult. I can’t blame my shitty behaviour on him forever.”

“Well, acknowledging that is taking the first step,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “We carry many childhood traumas into adulthood, and it’s not always apparent just how badly they can affect us.”

“Well listen to you, Oprah.” Now that the fight was over, the tension had drained out of both of us, and he was leaning against me as much as I was leaning against him. He had his own trauma – specifically, the death of his sister – but it was hard to say how it had affected him. That it had, I had no doubt. He’d loved his little sister.

The idea of siblings turned my thoughts naturally to Donna and Peter. They weren’t related by blood, but Peter seemed smitten with her. And working with the Avengers, we’d all come to learn that real family didn’t have to be related by blood.

“And just for the record,” I heard Stephen say as sleep crept closer, “I don’t flounce.”

I made myself look at him, eyebrows raised.

Well… maybe just a little,” he corrected.


	34. 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their visit, it becomes apparent that Peter needs help, and Tony vows to step up. Peter wants him to move back to New York permanently.

Wong let us sleep a good eight hours. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had that much rest, even before Donna came along, and when I finally woke I felt as if I could climb mountains and cross deserts. I settled myself with questing for hot drinks, instead, and when I came back carrying two mugs, Stephen was sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Time?” he croaked.

I looked at my watch. “Almost five thirty. How you feeling?”

“Tea. _Tea._ ”

“Alright, big guy.” I laughed and handed him a mug, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I checked in with Wong. They’re both out for the count.”

A wordless grunt was his only answer. I laughed and settled in with my coffee.

 

A half hour later, he was awake enough to make sense, and so was Donna, when he checked on her.

“Wong said she’s been fractious all night.” He still sounded tired, despite the caffeine.

“Maybe she’s missing Peter.” He gave me a look. “Alright, alright, I don’t have a clue. It’s not nappy rash. She’s too young to start teething. I don’t think she’s too hot or too cold, she’s just been fed, her nappy’s dry… I wonder…”

We shared a look. “I’m not doing it, Tony.”

“Come on! How many other parents have a direct telepathic link to their kids?”

“Your know for yourself that’s not always a good thing –”

“This is exactly the kind of thing it _is_ good for,” I argued. 

“At least let me decide whether she’s ill first,” he said. 

“Alright.”

 

I’d packed everything in the baby-train, including the thermometer. I held Donna while Stephen took her temperature. It was normal. Whatever was bothering her, it wasn’t medical in nature.

“Maybe it’s the nanites?” I asked, hesitant. “They’re similar to mine, but what if there’s a malfunction, or…”

“Stop.” His hand closed on my shoulder, stopping my panic attack before it even had a chance to start. “Her nanites are at least in part organic. If there was a malfunction, a break-down with the coding, or some other defect, there’d be inflammation. Inflammation would elevate her temperature. There’s no high temperature, therefore…”

“Nothing wrong with the nanites.” I let out a breath, seeing it fan her thick, dark hair. It was starting to curl at the ends. She was going to be a stunning toddler, I decided. Vanity and pride, maybe, but I genuinely believed it. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. 

Unspoken between us – but, I thought, very much at the forefront of our minds – was the idea that whatever was making her fractious had a magical cause. Neither of us wanted to acknowledge it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

“Let’s go meet Peter for breakfast, OK?” Stephen said. “I’ll lower the barrier spell when we get back. You’ll be in a better mood. It’ll help Donna relax.”

I leaned over and kissed him, gently brushing my lips over his. I didn’t need to say anything.

 

We hadn’t told Peter we were coming. In hindsight, we probably should have. When he answered the front door of his apartment in sleep-shorts and a sweat-stained T-shirt, he looked awful – his skin was pale and clammy, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes bleary and half-closed. 

“Dude!” I said. “Are you sick?”

“It’s six thirty,” he said, his voice hoarse. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I’m pretty sure I’m still asleep.”

“You’re very much awake,” Stephen said, “though looking as if you should be back in bed.”

He blinked, dragging both hands over his face. It was a trick of the light in the building’s hallway, but for a few seconds it looked as if a greenish light roiled across his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” he growled.

Wow. That wasn’t like him, not at all. I’d never seen him when he’d just woken up, but I’d always had the idea that he just kind of bounded out of bed. I was forgetting that he was a teenager and they were basically just zombies before ten in the morning. 

Then he blinked again, shook his head, blinked again. When he looked at us again, my Peter was back.

“Tony?” he said, a huge smile breaking over his face. Warmth lit his eyes. “Oh my God, you guys came! And you brought Donna!”

“Petey?” May’s voice sounded from deeper in the apartment, and the door opened further. Even fresh from sleep – even glaring at me – May was still an attractive woman. At least she wasn’t shouting. “Oh. It’s you. Isn’t it early for a social call?”

“I wondered – that is, _we_ wondered – whether Peter would like to come have breakfast with us?”

“Great!” he said, already nodding. 

“You’re still grounded, young man.”

“May!” He turned to her, distraught. “Please? _Please?_ I’ll keep my room tidy and do the dishes and…”

Her face softened. “Alright,” she said, reaching up to tweak the haphazard strands of his hair. Even though she was still mad at him over his first unauthorised visit to Wakanda, it was plain from the look in her eyes that she loved him. “But go take a shower first, you stink.”

“ _May…_ ”

“Go already.” She tugged his ear, making him wince. He shot me an embarrassed look, rolled his eyes in that special way only teenagers could perfect, and sloped down the hall. Heh – even though he was a superhero, he still had to put his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us.

“Come in,” May said, holding the door wide. She looked over her shoulder briefly, making sure Peter was in the bathroom. “I want to talk to you.”

 

Inside the apartment, I positioned the hover-carrier at my feet and sat gingerly on the sofa, Stephen beside me. He was in his street clothes today – slacks, a shirt open at the neck, and a jacket – and he looked as if he fit in perfectly with New York life. I entertained a brief fantasy of peeling that shirt off him later on, then pushed the daydream to the back of my mind.

“So… a baby, huh?” May said when we were settled. “I’ve seen all the news reports. You’re the last person I’d have expected to raise a family.”

“Look, I know I’m not your favourite person –”

She held up a hand. “I wanted to apologise for the way I… that’s not me, OK? I was just…”

“It’s OK.” God, this was awkward. Stephen pressed his thigh against mine, our secret sign of support. “You blamed me for taking Peter to Titan. _I_ blame me for taking Peter to Titan.”

“I’ve had a little time to think about that,” she said in a level voice. “From what I understand, the Decimation would have happened regardless of whether Peter went off.” She twizzled her fingers at the ceiling to indicate space. “I still would have lost him. You and the Avengers, you brought him back.” She shrugged. “It’s simple math.” 

“I think I preferred it when you were shouting at me,” I said. Guilt – familiar, painful, gnawing at my soul – was an old companion, never far away. “Reasonable May just makes me feel like a shit.”

“You _are_ a shit.” But she was smiling. “But you have a baby girl now, so I think you understand more about parenting than you ever wanted to.”

“I understand how to avoid projectile vomit,” I said, trying to lighten the tone. Too heavy for this time of the morning. And we’d talked way more about me than I was comfortable with. “So, uh, Peter. He looks kind of…”

Her smile faded. She looked toward the bathroom again, where the sound of the shower was still going strong.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “He’s been… distant, uncommunicative. Secretive. And don’t tell me it’s because he’s a teenager, I _know_ what my teenager is like.”

“He was kinda weird when he opened the door,” I acknowledged. The guilt in my gut twisted, turning to anxiety. Another old friend. “Do you think he’s, uh…” I swiped a hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t know… depressed?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.” Her voice had sharpened, her own anxiety apparent. “The whole grounding thing hit him hard, he’s normally such a good kid. It’s finished tomorrow, anyway, and I’m glad – he needs to go and socialise with people his own age.”

“Should we take him to a doctor?” I asked.

May looked at Stephen.

“Brain surgeon,” he said. “Not a family doctor.”

“I think it’s something we should consider.” May’s tone was heavy.

“You’d take advice from me?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“You’re the closest thing he has to a father, Mr Stark –”

“Tony, please.”

She nodded. “He looks up to you. Talk to him, OK? You understand this superhero stuff better than I ever could.” Her shrug was tiny, but revealed what she’d never say aloud – even though she’d raised him, she struggled to relate to him.

“Would you like to come to breakfast with us?” Stephen asked.

“Thank you for the offer.” She smiled, small but genuine. “But it’ll take me an age to get ready, and you kids don’t want to be hanging around here forever.”

I understood what she wasn’t saying – that she wanted us to have some undisturbed time with Peter. I appreciated that.

Donna – waking up from the latest in a long line of naps – made a sleepy noise, chubby fists waving. May’s eyes flicked down to the hover-carrier, her face softening.

“She’s gorgeous. Can I hold her?”

“Sure.”

May lifted her out of the carrier. Donna looked at her, grey eyes wide, and blew spit bubbles. 

“So you adopted,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “Doesn’t it seem a little…” She shook her head. “Sorry, stupid question, you must have heard it a million times already.”

“A little soon?” Stephen asked. May nodded. “Well, I’ll admit that we didn’t let the grass grow under our feet.” We were on dicey ground here, but we’d spent time deciding how to field this issue. “The voyage back from Titan didn’t give us much to do but talk. Turns out, we’ve got more in common than we’d thought.”

“But how did you…” Again she shook her head. “Sorry, I have no right to ask these questions…”

“It’s nothing we haven’t already dealt with in the press,” I said. “When you’ve seen your home from space, when you’ve travelled vast distances just to get back to a world that probably still hates you, you learn that life is short. We don’t always get a second chance.”

“Donna’s your second chance,” May said, nodding with understanding. 

I could see the cogs turning behind her eyes – Pepper had dumped me, so there was no chance of a family there. It was the story we wanted people to believe, and it was mostly true. The part that wasn’t true, of course, was that I wouldn’t have chosen to adopt in the first place. I’d never seen myself as any kind of parental figure. That I had become a parent – biologically, spiritually – still scared the hell out of my, but I was prepared to step up and face my responsibilities now in a way I hadn’t before Thanos stuck his ugly face in my galactic backyard. 

Donna gurgled and flailed her little fists. May cooed, stroking her soft face.

“She kinda looks like you both,” she said, just as I’d begun to let my guard down.

“Smooth skin,” I said, “huge eyes… yeah, I’ll take that.”

“It’s silly, I mean there’s no way you could be biologically related in the time, but her nose…” She tapped Donna’s small, round nose. “That could be yours. And I swear her eyes are the exact shade of his.” She nodded at Stephen. “Isn’t that weird? Babies usually have blue eyes. And all this hair…”

“Yeah, it is pretty weird,” I said, forcing a laugh. “But she’s healthy, she’s more or less happy, and that’s all I care about.”

“How did you get an adoption in just a couple of weeks?”

I looked at Stephen, a clear signal that I was letting him field that one. May was annoyingly perceptive. I almost considered telling her the truth – Petey had made it clear that she hadn’t freaked when she’d found out he was Spider-Man – but I didn’t want to take that risk. The fewer people who knew, the better, particularly considering she had nanites in her skin and an unknown magical ability. Yup, those things were totally going to bite us in the ass when she got older.

“Stroke of luck, really,” Stephen said. “We approached an agency. An adoption had just fallen through. And now here we are.”

We’d kept our story simple, never revealing the name of the adoption agency or the birth-mother. Let the press think it was to protect Donna. In a way, it was.

“She’s so pretty,” she sighed. “Ben and I – that was my husband – we always wanted a child of our own, but then Peter’s parents…” She shook her head. “It never seemed like the right time to have one of our own – we were trying to get Peter settled. Then Ben died.” Another sigh. “Look, if you guys ever need a babysitter, I’m happy to help.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” The idea of leaving Donna with her made me anxious, given our previous exchange. I glanced at Stephen. The way his hand brushed over mine, I knew he’d picked up on my anxiety.

“It would be an honour,” May said.

“We’ll certainly keep you in mind,” Stephen said, as beautifully non-committal as I could have hoped for. “Truth be told, we have somewhat of an embarrassment of babysitters – Ramonda, the Queen Mother of Wakanda, seems particularly taken with her.”

“Oh.” That was a nice touch, throwing in Ramonda’s name. “One day, maybe.”

Peter’s arrival spared us from having to make any other uncomfortable small-talk. With a shower and a change of clothes, he looked more like the Petey I knew. 

But it also made the shadows under his eyes apparent.

 

Go on an all-night bender and wake up still mostly drunk in a stranger’s bed? IHOP. Save New York from an alien invasion? IHOP. Take your almost kind-of adopted son stroke superhero protégé out for breakfast? Definitely IHOP. I didn’t speak teenager, but I spoke the language of pancakes, and that was universal. In fact it wasn’t just universal, it was international. It said it right there in the sign. 

Stephen gated us from Peter’s apartment to a half-block away from an IHOP, and we walked the short distance to the restaurant. None of us really spoke until the food arrived. I didn’t even have to ask the waitress if she could heat up Donna’s bottle – part of the baby-train included a small, high-powered bottle warmer, utilising laser technology to make a collapsible, light-weight device any mom on the go could slip into her bag. Hey, maybe I _should_ start marketing this stuff. 

“How long you got, kiddo?” I asked. 

“Until when?” Peter looked confused.

“School. Obs.”

He looked at his watch. “Uh… carry the one, drop the two… I’ve got like a whole day, Tony. It’s Sunday.”

“Ha! Everyone’s a smart-ass. OK, so maybe the days have kind of got away from me.” I looked at Stephen. “Why didn’t you tell me it was Sunday? I could have slept another hour.”

“What, doesn’t everyone get up early at the weekend?” He gave me a guileless smile, but I wasn’t fooled. 

“Only parents, apparently. And it’s definitely your turn to get up the next time she has a fractious night.” Which would be tonight, knowing our luck. Although I hoped that dropping the barrier spell would give me a good idea of what was wrong with her.

“She’s not settling?” Peter asked.

The words were innocuous enough, but there was something about his tone. Nothing concrete, nothing I could put my finger on. He just sounded a little… different.

“Yeah, for a couple weeks now,” I said. “We kind of got into a routine, but she’s seemed off since we came back from our house-call to Voldemort.”

His expression seemed to tighten for a moment, probably remembering the way Voldemort’s – I mean, the Nameless One’s – corpse had exploded, showering him with gore. 

“What about you?” I asked, seeing this as a perfect way to bring the conversation back to him. “You sleeping OK?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. He was going to be a rangy adult, I decided, when he’d finished growing; he still had some filling out to do. He’d be at least as tall as me, though narrower across the shoulders and hips. And his face was always going to be just the right side of gaunt. 

“I guess,” he said.

“That’s not an answer, Peter.”

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Stephen said. When I turned to look at him, silently berating him for interrupting my top-notch parenting flow, he shrugged. “What? Monty Python is a classic.”

“I swear to God, you are getting more British by the day.” I shook my head and turned back. “This is what your breakfast costs. And don’t say you don’t wanna eat, because you’re a growing boy and yes, yes, I could sound more patronising if I tried. I’m just that good.”

“You know he’s just going to keep beavering away until he gets an answer,” Stephen said.

Peter sighed. “Alright,” he said, digging his fork through a pancake, turning it into a fluffy, delicious mess. “So some nights I can’t get to sleep till like two in the morning. Other nights I’m in bed by eight. But it’s nothing, man, it’s just all part of the shitty life of the teenager.”

“Uh huh.” If it was just late nights, maybe. But early nights? “And your appetite?”

“Eating like a horse. A really, really hungry horse.” But he was still picking at his pancakes. 

“Maybe…” I was going to suggest something he didn’t like. “Maybe you should give the whole Spider-Man thing a rest for a while. Like, couple of weeks or something. Just a mini-holiday.”

“Right!” he said, dropping his fork and pushing his plate away. His face tightened yet again, muscles flicking and ticking across his cheeks and jaws. “Because crime takes a holiday, too!” He sat back in the seat and crossed his arms. Shit. 

“That’s not what I meant –”

“You don’t think I can cut it.” He grabbed his bag and jumped up. “You know what, you guys should just go back to Wakanda and hide away, like you’ve been doing since _she_ came along!”

“Peter!” I reached for him, but he was already moving.

“Go, go,” Stephen said, taking Donna from my arms. “I’ve got her.”

I hurried after Peter, anxious to catch up to him before he webbed his way across the city and I had to go all Iron Man to catch up. I guess I should have seen this coming – he’d always seemed like such a well-adjusted kid, always trying to do the right thing, so when he suddenly turned and snapped it just seemed so out of character.

I flashed back to that moment in the hall outside his apartment. To that splash of green in his eyes. I don’t know what made me think about that, especially right now, when I was looking up and down the goddamned street to see which way he’d gone. 

I jogged after him. He was walking fast, thankfully not running. I had no desire to have my fitness levels shown up by a human puppy. 

“Hey, come on, wait up,” I said as I drew level. “No way was I saying you couldn’t cut it as Spider-Man. Quite the opposite.”

“What do you mean?” He’d jammed his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on his sneakers, the sidewalk, the street. Anywhere but me. 

“You take it too seriously, man.”

“How the hell can I be taking it _too_ seriously?”

“When you let it define who you are.” He stopped, so I did too, waiting as he finally looked up at me. “You’re Peter Parker. Beneath the suit, underneath the web, that’s who you are. The guy who looks after his family and tries to do the right thing, no matter the consequences.” 

“I don’t understand.” He looked bewildered. 

“Ah…” I let out a sigh. How the hell could I condense almost fifty years of experience down into a couple of pithy sentences? “See, you’ve got all these different parts of yourself, and you’re trying to do the right thing for all of them. Looking after May, keeping up with your schoolwork, a social life. Fighting crime. Something’s going to suffer, Petey.”

“Says you.”

“Says the guy who’s lived through his own very public meltdown,” I said. “I was rich – and I mean filthy rich – and I thought I could have it all. The money, the girl, the suit. And for a while I did. I mean it wasn’t great, I was having flashbacks and nightmares about the whole Afghanistan thing…” Crap, hadn’t meant to say that. “But the point is I thought I had it good. Then New York happened. And Sokovia. And Germany. And Titan.” He still looked confused, so I ploughed on. “I gave those fights everything I had, Peter. But it turns out that everything I had included my relationship with Pepper. It included my anxiety. Panic attacks. So many sleepless nights. I couldn’t give anything up, so in the end something was taken from me.”

“So you saying if I don’t scale back…”

“You’re gonna burn out, Petey.” I gripped his shoulder, expecting him to shake me off, relieved when he didn’t. “I don’t want that for you. You’ve got so much potential –”

“How would you know?” Now he did shrug my hand off. “You’re never here! You’re shacked up in your little bubble with Stephen and Donna, playing goddamned happy families –”

“I didn’t plan for it to turn out that way –”

“ – so I guess you got your happy ever after, I mean Stephen’s so in love with you it’s almost enough to make me puke –”

“ – wait, back up!” This was getting out of hand. I had to ignore his comment about Stephen being in love with me – I couldn’t process that right now, couldn’t spare enough thought processes to even consider the implications. “You’re saying you want me to live closer to you?”

“Yeah.” He looked away, straightening his back, bumping his bag higher up his shoulder. “Guess I am.”

I let out a slow breath. “Alright,” I said. “If that’s what you want, I can make that happen.”

“For real?” His eyes opened wide, almost comically so, the bag sliding down his shoulder.

“I mean I’ll have to discuss it with Stephen, but I’m pretty sure he won’t mind. I can stay in the Sanctum until I get a new place.” And a job, but there was no way I was going to burden him with my own problems. “He won’t have to keep gating halfway around the world. You can rock up for a visit whenever you want, you won’t have to gate in. Yeah. What’s not to like about it?”

“That’d be awesome!” His hostility seemed to melt away, vanishing as if it had never existed.

“You’re family. I want my family to stay together. I guess I’m technically homeless, so it doesn’t matter to me whether I’m sleeping in Wakanda, New York or Australia.” It seemed prudent to keep to myself that Stephen was unhappy with the idea of me coming back to New York. If it made it easier for us to keep an eye on my spider kid, then I’d sell it to him however I could. 

“Man…” He straightened, slicking his hair back, straightening out his T-shirt. “Thanks, Tony!” He was beaming again. The puppy was back.

But as we walked back to the IHOP, I caught a glimpse of his face in profile. It was just a trick of the light – a neon sign from across the street – but a green light seemed to roll across his eyes.


	35. 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony confesses to Stephen how he feels.  
> Together, they determine why their daughter has been fractious.

We spent the whole morning together, and I have to admit, it felt damned good. After Peter apologised to Stephen for acting like a brat, we got down with our hobbit selves and had second breakfast. Mostly it was just an opportunity for Stephen and I to have more coffee, but Peter worked his way through another stack of pancakes. I had no idea where he put it all – hollow legs, maybe.

We spent a couple hours in Central Park, enjoying the wildlife. Petey wanted to hold Donna, but every time we tried, she started crying. She’d been fine during his last visit to Wakanda. One way or another, we were going to find out what was bothering her. 

 

We dropped Peter back with May, then gated back to the Sanctum.

“What did you two talk about outside the IHOP?” Stephen asked as we settled in his study. I liked this room – it was warm, cosy, with books lining every wall – and it seemed that Donna liked it too, because she finally went to sleep. 

I dropped into a chair, letting out a sigh, watching him putting books away on a shelf.

“What happens when you try to have it all.” Another sigh. “He wants us to live in New York, Stephen.”

He tensed, his back to me. “I thought as much.”

“It makes sense when you think about it.” I wished he’d turn around so that I could see his face. It was hard to make out his reactions from his tone of voice alone. “This is already your home, so –”

“I’ll follow you wherever you want to go,” he interrupted. “You want to live on the West Coast, that’s fine, I’ll just gate in. You want to stay in Wakanda, I’m fine with that too.”

“But you don’t want me to live in New York,” I said, picking up on what he wasn’t saying more than what he was. “Stephen, come on, man, we’ve been over this.”

“You were with Potts for almost ten years,” he said, finally turning around. His eyes were wide, muscles twitching in his jaw. His voice was ragged. This had been praying on his mind, despite my reassurances. “Some of that time was here. _She’s_ still here. Can you honestly tell me that if she offered to take you back, you wouldn’t go to her?”

I surged up out of the seat and grabbed his hand, tugging him closer. He resisted, so I took those few steps myself, closing the distance between us. I put my arms around his neck, gently tugging the short hairs on the back of his head, my thumbs stroking the lobes of his ears. He wouldn’t look at me.

“She’d never take me back,” I said. “And honestly – yeah, I said honestly,” I added, when he finally met my eyes, “I don’t want her to. I’m with you.”

He said nothing, just stared at me, grey eyes boring into mine with increasing intensity. The struggle played out across his face; he wanted to believe me. 

“You’re…” I had no idea what to say, so I just dug out how I felt and hoped that would be enough. “Look, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who really understands me, OK? And I know that sounds like a goddamned Hallmark cliché, but it’s true. You get all these little fucked-up pieces because you’ve lived through them yourself, in one way or another.”

His head dipped. “But you have history with her.”

“And I have a future with you.” The words were simple, but they hit me with the force of a brick to the face. “I…”

His eyes searched mine, uncertainty warring with cautious hope. Could I tell him how I really felt? Could I take that final step?

I remembered my first trip to Titan. Remembered being alone, half-dead after the fight with Thanos. Life was short, fragile and precious. Hell _yes,_ I could take that final step.

I tilted my head and kissed him, gently ghosting my lips over his. I pulled back a little, letting my forehead rest against his.

“I love you, Stephen.”

His head flew up, eyes widening. His mouth dropped open. His hands reached up, fingers closing over my arms, digging in tight before my wince made him loosen his hold. He didn’t say anything, and that hurt – I hadn’t expected a declaration of love in return, but I wanted him to say _something._ Some acknowledgement that I’d just put my heart out there.

“And you don’t feel the same way,” I said on a heavy sigh, pulling out of his grip, turning away. It didn’t take much to make my own insecurities start lapping around my chin. “Of course you wouldn’t. Why would you? We haven’t even been seeing each other that long –”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me back, hauling me tight against his chest, arms a cage around me. His mouth came down hard on mine, so hard I thought he might actually leave a bruise, tongue pushing inside without waiting for permission. He sucked down my startled gasp. Finally getting myself together, I framed his face in my hands, kissing him back. No way was I letting him have it all his own way.

“Of course I feel the same way, you goddamned idiot,” he breathed against my mouth as we finally gave ourselves a half-inch of space. “I’ve been in love with you since the voyage home.”

Now it was my turn to be pole-axed. I gaped up at him, flailing for words.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded.

“It was never the right time.” His lips found the side of my face, as if he couldn’t bare not to have them on some part of me. “I worried… God, how I worried… that you could never grow to love me, that Potts would always have that hold on you –”

I silenced him with another kiss. “I don’t wanna talk about her right now. I wanna talk about us.”

“I’m an insufferable asshole,” he warned with a shaky little laugh. “Go on, say it.”

“We’re both assholes. But we make each other better.” Something he’d just said struck me. “Hang on. You said that you’ve been in love with me since we were on the ship.” I stared at him, trying to hold back my horror. “So our one-night stand… my _God,_ Stephen! I’m so _sorry –_ ”

He cut me off with a kiss. “Forget about it. I went into that knowing exactly where we were. That wasn’t your fault, Tony.”

“But it takes two to tango,” I said, furious with myself. “I was still too goddamned selfish…”

“Look at it this way,” he said, smoothing his fingers through my hair in an obvious – and welcomed – effort to calm me down. “If you’d know how I felt about you then, you still would have run out on me that morning.”

“I –” He tugged my hair, and I stopped, actually thinking about what he’d just said rather than just automatically reacting. 

I thought back to how I’d felt that morning. Embarrassed. Ashamed. I felt that I’d taken advantage of a drunk man, and never mind the fact that I’d been drunk too. What we’d done had been a mistake, and all I’d wanted to do was put as much space as possible between us before he woke up. If I’d known he loved me… yeah, dammit, he was right. I would have run even further. And faster.

And the guilt of knowing that – the guilt of being reminded that I was complete and utter shit – poured fresh shame on my insecurities. I wanted to ask why he felt as he did, but the tiniest measure of pride stopped the question in my throat.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I croaked. 

“I know.” He pulled back far enough to kiss my forehead, the tender gesture almost enough to break my self-control.

Hell with it. He knew who I was, who I’d been. Who I could be. I leaned into him, burying my face against his shoulder, drawing down as much comfort as he was willing to give… and I hoped, returning a little of my own.

 

When we’d done being romantic assholes – followed up by a short but super-intense fuck over his desk – our attention turned back to Donna. I felt a little guilty that she’d been in the room during that, especially considering I’d taken Stephen to task last night for the same thing – but I think we’d both needed the connection of physical intimacy. Something to weigh us down, to stop us floating away. An anchor. And if it meant I now had a whole bunch of fantasies about his desk, well, then so be it. 

Although Donna had slept through our session, she wasn’t asleep now, and was gearing up for another epic screaming fit. 

“Can we do the barrier spell thing here?” I asked as he fastened his pants. I bounced Donna little on my hip, hoping she’d settle, knowing she wouldn’t.

“Sure. We can do this anywhere. It’ll feel just like before.”

“You promised I’d tingle.”

He smirked. “I said it _might_ tingle. And I think that as we’ve just got that out of the way, you can keep it in your pants for a little while longer.”

“Says the guys who’s still trying to get his done up.”

His smirk broadened. “For some reason, my fingers think I should be taking them off.”

“I’m always down with that.” My cock certainly agreed, but my ass had other ideas. He hadn’t exactly been gentle… and I hadn’t wanted him to be. “But magic first, sex later.” I rolled my eyes. “There’s something I never thought I’d say.”

“Duty before sex?”

“Anything before sex,” I teased. “But no. I meant just casually talking about magic, like it’s perfectly normal.” I held up a hand, forestalling him as his mouth opened. “And I know it’s like breathing to you, but to the rest of us it’s something out of a fairy-tale.”

He waggled his eyebrows, faux-suggestive. “Better hope an evil old queen doesn’t come and gobble you up, then.”

It was my turn to smirk. “I’d settle for getting gobbled by a handsome sorcerer.”

 

We pushed a couple of tall, wing-backed chairs side-by-side; Stephen took one, I took the other, with Donna on my lap. The expected screaming session hadn’t developed, and instead she just kept making these scratchy little hiccoughing noises.

He took my right hand in his left, and Donna’s left in his right. Her eyes seemed huge as she stared up at him, and her crying tailed off completely. She couldn’t know what he was about to do… right? Right? She was special – _real_ special – but she just a baby. How much could she know?

Then I realised. Her reactions didn’t have anything to do with knowledge. She had no frame of reference, so everything had to be instinctual. Her magical abilities… whatever the hell they might be… they tuned her in to whatever her Papa was doing. And right now, he was mumbling under his breath. She felt that.

I felt it, too, but probably differently. The first time Stephen had performed this spell on us, when he’d put a barrier between her emotions and mine, it had felt as if he’d been cranking up a high-voltage generator. The hairs had stood up on the back of my neck. This time it was the opposite; that generator had been powered down, a tension I hadn’t even understood existed trickling away. This time it didn’t tingle, it itched, and I scratched my chest with my free hand. Then my shoulder. Then my armpit. My knee, my thigh…

“Sit still,” Stephen murmured.

“It itches!”

“What are you, five?”

“Poor impulse control.”

“Surely not.”

“Asshole.”

“Don’t distract the sorcerer when he’s casting spells, Tony.”

“Are we done already?”

“What, you have to go make potty or something?”

“D’you remember that bit where I said I loved you?”

His grin – quick, hard – made his eyes shine, and I couldn’t help myself: - I leaned over and kissed him.

“Still love you,” I said. 

His smile softened. “The barrier’s down.”

I let out a breath, looking into Donna’s upturned little face.

“Alright,” I said, stroking the top of her head. “Come on, kiddo. Tell Daddy what’s eating you.”

 

It took a while, and we ran the gamut of sensations that I was familiar with (hunger, tiredness, crankiness because Papa wouldn’t let her play with his finger) before we got to what we wanted. It started gradually at first, and the sensation was muted, maybe because my good mood was feeding back into her. She was smiling, grey eyes shining, so beautiful she made my heart ache.

But after a few minutes her reflected good mood began to fade. Something trickled into the back of my mind, curling around my chest.

“What do you feel?” Stephen asked. 

He’d let go of my hand when he’d completed the spell, but I took it again now. I felt… hell, I don’t know. It wasn’t strong enough yet to even put a name to, other than that I was starting to feel kind of….

“Anxious,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Something’s making her anxious.”

“Alright.” Stephen nodded, but said nothing more, letting me concentrate.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus. It was more than anxiety. It felt more… I don’t know… more complex. More layered. Whatever the cause of these feelings, anxiety was more of a by-product than her true emotions.

Then something rolled over me, and I understood exactly what was happening. My lungs suddenly felt tight; my nostrils widened as I tried to suck down another breath. The dark space behind my eyelids felt too enclosing so I opened my eyes, but that wasn’t any better – the room was narrowing down, the walls closing in…

“Easy.” Stephen’s voice broke through my panic attack. “Easy, Tony. Try to take slow breaths. Look at me.”

I latched onto his face, my hand gripping his hard enough to make my bones creak, let alone his. But he didn’t utter a word of complaint, and I loved him even more for that. Slowly the panic attack receded, I got my breathing under control, and the room stopped shrinking. Donna had stayed silent throughout, but her eyes were swimming, and as I held her closer she started to cry, great gut-wrenching sobs that made my ears hurt. I stroked the back of her head, making soothing noises, trying to project a feeling of calm – any kind of calm – to help her stop crying.

Through it all, Stephen sat and watched us, muscles on his face twitching. I understood him well enough now to know that the struggle to remain still – to not just swoop forward and grab us both, to actually do something – was killing him. I couldn’t put him through that anymore.

“Put the barrier back,” I murmured.

He nodded, took both of our hands, and worked a little more magic.

 

It took time, but we were eventually able to get Donna settled enough to sleep. I should put her back in the hover-carrier, but I wasn’t ready to put her down yet. I needed to feel the reassuring weight of her in my arms, to feel her skin against mine. 

“She’s frightened,” I told Stephen eventually. “Like, all the time. The anxiety I felt, it was…” I shook my head. “It was so weird. I _think_ she understood that you’d created a barrier, and that by dropping that barrier, she was going to make me feel her fear.”

It was a ludicrous idea, but Stephen didn’t dismiss it. Instead his brow furrowed with thought. She was just a handful of weeks old, but she seemed to have an intuitive grasp of magic. I couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride, but it was tempered by a healthy dose of fear. There was no way of knowing what the future had in store for our little girl, and that was before we’d even factored in her nanite-metal skin. 

“What is there for her to be frightened of?” Stephen murmured, more to himself than me. He was thinking aloud. 

“If it’s magical in origin, that’s your bailiwick,” I said.

“Agreed,” he said, nodding. “Although it’s possible she may also be receiving some limited environmental sensory feedback from the nanites.” 

“It’s possible.” I stroked my chin. “I’ve got all the data Shuri gathered from her initial tests, I can run some environmental simulations, try to study the nanite’s coding in more detail.” 

I’d already spent some time on this, and while the base code was the same as what I used in my suit, there were many differences, caused by the replication process when they’d bonded with the umbilical stem cells. Man, I’d learned more about the gestation process than I ever thought I’d learn.

“And I can run some investigative spells,” Stephen said. “It will take time, though. My magical senses are well-honed – I felt the Undying Ones the moment I returned to Earth – and I don’t feel anything untoward –”

“You mean you can’t feel a disturbance –”

“Don’t you _dare –!_ ”

“ – in the Force,” I finished. “Come on, you gotta let me have that one. _Star Wars_ is sci-fi gold! Jedi Knights, Sith Lords, that Mace Wandu guy. Purple lightsabre. _That’s_ what style’s all about, man.”

“I hate _Star Wars._ ” Stephen gave me an unflinching look. “The plots are derivative, the acting is standard at best, and don’t even get me started on the dialogue.” 

“ _Dude…_ ” I gave him a wide-eyed look of horror. “How the hell have we got to the ‘I love you’ stage _without_ knowing you have no soul?”

“Because love means acknowledging that the man you’re with has absolutely no taste when it comes to movies,” he said, dead-pan.

“Wait. Wait. You’re talking about me, right?”

“You’re the only guy around here I’m in love with…”

My heart thumped. “Alright. Your appalling lack of respect when it comes to movies is forgiven.”


	36. 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri offers Tony a new career.   
> Tony and Stephen choose Donna's legal guardians, in the event of their untimely death.

Coming up with a plan, and implementing it, were two different things. I started analysing Donna’s nanite data in detail while Stephen started researching monitoring spells. Both these things were going to take more time than we’d anticipated; Stephen explained that there were about a million different monitoring spells, and those were just the ones he knew (I was only exaggerating a little – his photographic memory was a pain in the ass but, occasionally, useful). 

And as for the nanites, well, both Shuri and I had spent time studying the code after Donna manifested her shiny new iron skin, but I was sure there was more to learn. _My_ nanites had a whole host of different functions. I hoped hers had just taken the primary armour function, but it would take time to investigate that in depth. I should have studied this earlier… but I’d been too busy trying not to freak out to give it any further thought. Too wrapped up in my own guilt.

And in the meantime? Life went on. Even when I’d been tripping balls after the Battle of New York, when I’d gone days without sleep because I couldn’t stand the nightmares, when I’d been so in the grip of PTSD I’d barely realised I was pushing Pepper away, I knew life went on. Just because my world had imploded didn’t mean that the _whole_ world had come to a stop, and I’d known that, at least on some level.

Now – even though I knew that Donna’s fractious behaviour was because she was frightened all the time, and I would do anything – _anything_ – to find out what was causing that, I had enough perspective to know that life went on. I knew my own limits. I knew how hard I could push myself, how hard Stephen could push himself, to get something done. We were both working flat out.

That didn’t mean I didn’t welcome a break. Shuri stopped by the Sanctum; she was on a state visit, her brother’s envoy while he kept a tight grip on things back in Wakanda, but she’d managed to sneak away to visit us. I suspected she was more interested in Donna than me, but that was OK. I was learning how to share the limelight. With Stephen, I was learning a lot of things.

“Your daughter is absolutely unique,” Shuri said, cuddling her after we’d finished talking. I’d brought her into a large, open area that I called a lounge only because it had a couple of sofas, a _chaise longue,_ and some high-backed chairs. Stephen had shut himself in the study, still researching monitoring spells, and would probably go to Kamar-Taj soon. 

“That’s what all parents say about their kids,” I acknowledged, “but in this case you’re right.”

“Would you like some assistance analysing the nanite data?”

In the past, pride – or more accurately, ego – would have stopped me from sharing. I wanted to think I was a better person now. Maybe not by much, but enough to recognise my own character flaws and to want to work on improving them. That was progress, right?

“Sure,” I said. “Never hurts to have more than one set of eyes on a problem. Thank you.”

“How long will you be staying in New York?”

I shrugged. “No idea. We came back so we could visit with Peter, and I figured maybe a week or two. But he wants us to stay.”

She gave me a shrewd look. “And what do _you_ want?”

“Lady, that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question, right there.” At her blank look, I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, kids these days.” And never mind the fact that it had been a thing before even I was a kid.

“Alright, Grandfather.” Her impish smile made me grin in return. “So are you going to move back here?”

“It makes sense,” I acknowledged. “Stephen wouldn’t have to keep gating back here, and we’d be closer to Peter. He’s kind of…” I gave her a sideways look. “He needs his friends.”

“He is next on my list to visit.” The steel in her voice – and the softness in her eyes – told me that she’d do whatever she could to help him. In fact, talking to her might do more good than talking to me; they were almost the same age, and while their responsibilities differed, they were still more than the average teenager should ever be expected to bear. “But it is you I came to see, first and foremost.”

“I’m touched.” 

“My mother has been saying that for some time now…”

“Your mom is too perceptive for her own good,” I laughed.

“My gosh, don’t tell her that!”

“Oh, think I will now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I won’t tell you about the business proposition I have for you.”

“Suddenly I’m forgetting that I have anything to say to your mother at all.”

She smirked. “I’d hoped you would see it that way.”

“OK, OK, I’m behaving.” I sat forward on the sofa, palms on my knees. “This is me, behaving.”

Her laugh was light and infectious; Donna giggled, making her laugh even more brightly. I smiled at them both.

“You are a genius, Tony,” she said, “And I don’t say that to massage your ego.”

“Well, shucks.”

“My point is that right now you are a _wasted_ genius. Your talent is not being fully utilised. You’re bored, yes?”

“No,” I said immediately. “I’ve got Stephen and Donna…”

“And what do you do when they are not around? When Donna is asleep, and Stephen is at Kamar-Taj?”

OK, so she had me there. “Well, when I stayed in Wakanda I upgraded your holo system. I built a hover stroller for the kid. And a self-heating bottle. Made a couple upgrades to my suit… alright, so I see your point.”

“So here is Wakanda’s offer to you: - we pay you a monthly consultancy fee which, I assure you, will be generous. We provide you with a workspace in the location of your choosing. In return for this, Wakanda has first call to utilise any technological advances you make.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, Tony. Not from a friend.”

“Sorry, I…” I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. “That was a dick thing for me to say. But listen – if Wakanda’s funding me, am I expected to go right back into weapons development? Because I am so out of that game.”

“You are expected only to tinker,” she said. “We have enough scientists working on weapons systems to keep our country and our people safe. What we need are innovators, people who see a need for something that no one else has seen.”

“Got any paperwork I could look at?”

She reached into her bag and drew out a buff-coloured folder. Of course she had paperwork.

“All the details you will need,” she said. “Take as long as you wish to look this over.” She smiled again. “You can let me know what you decide before your godparent party, yes?”

“I’m sorry, a what-now?”

“The party where you reveal your child’s godparents.”

“We haven’t even decided who they’re gonna be yet!”

“Well then,” she smirked, “you had best make a decision. If I don’t make godmother I expect honorary Aunty status.”

I blinked, trying to ignore the fresh horror rising up inside me. Who the hell came up with all these family rules crap in the first place?

“How about big sister?” I asked.

Her beaming smile damn near knocked me down. 

 

“Godparents,” I said to Stephen later.

“I’m sorry, what? And what’s that?” He nodded at the open folder on my lap.

“We need to pick ‘em.” I ignored his question about the folder, temporarily down-played over the much more pressing issue of family business. “What even do godparents do, anyway?”

He sighed and sat beside me. “Their role is spiritual,” he explained. “It’s their duty to instruct a child in the ‘proper’ religious ways, should the parents die.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that. That was actually kinda boring.

“Donna doesn’t need godparents. What she _might_ need, if we’re both really unlucky, is legal guardians if we die before she reaches eighteen.”

His comment poured gasoline on the embers of my anxiety. In our line of work, death was a certainty – it wasn’t a matter of _if_ it was going to happen, only when. If neither of us retired, the job would kill us. Given that I had no plans to hang up the suit for as long as I could cram my dad-bod inside…

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Guardians. Definitely. But whoever we choose needs to be told about her… issues.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” His smile was droll. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Well, Peter and Shuri are already kind of honorary family,” I said, thinking aloud. “Shuri’s in the most stable financial position. Peter’s kind of…”

“Peter doesn’t need the extra stress right now.” His tone had gentled. “I take it Fury’s off the table?”

“Fury’s not even in the same fucking room,” I grunted. “I guess my next preference would be Nat. She’s been a good friend to me, when she didn’t have to be.”

He arched an eyebrow. “A highly trained assassin?” 

“A highly trained assassin who knows how to look out for threats, and is not afraid to take them out. With extreme prejudice. But sneakily.”

“I like that you added the ‘sneakily’ part.”

“So Shuri can help her if she any issues with her nanites,” I said, trying to be logical about something that made my skin crawl to even consider. “And Nat can help her out if she needs anyone… removed. But magical problems…”

We looked at each other. It was hard to think that far ahead, to try to plan not just for one possible future, but all possible futures. The issues with Donna’s nanites were a known quantity – more or less – but her magical abilities were completely unknown. Not even Stephen, the Sorcerer Supreme, could tell how they’d manifest, and I knew that scared the crap out of him. He didn’t have the Time Stone to look into her future. That was both a blessing and a curse.

“There’s Wong,” he said, hesitant. “His sense of humour needs a little work, but he’s a good man.”

“Wong, then.” I let out a breath. “Alright. Shuri, Nat, and Wong. I mean we can change our minds at any time, but I want a water-tight legal guarantee that she’ll be taken care of, that Fury won’t try to suck her into his goddamned Young Avengers Initiative.”

“You think he’ll proceed with that?”

“I think it’s already started,” I said. “Peter and Shuri are his first victims, though he’d never admit to that. Clint’s daughter is hella good with the old bow and arrow. Scott’s got a real brave little girl, and if Fury can get her into an Ant-Man suit there’ll be no stopping her. Although that asshole Pym is cagey as fuck with his technology. And who knows who’s coming up that we’ve never even heard of? The world’s a big place and it’s only getting bigger.”

We shared another look, neither voicing our deeper concerns – that with Donna’s potential abilities, she could be the strongest, the most versatile, of them all. 

But with us as her parents, she could also be the most out-of-control. 

 

I finally got around to telling Stephen about Shuri’s business offer. I was going to accept it – I’d be mad not to – and I think he knew that, even before he’d finished reading the terms of the contract. It was beyond generous, although Wakanda would benefit more than me. It would be enough to make me wealthy again, more than wealthy, but I’d come to learn that money didn’t mean shit if you were miserable. It just gave you a little more comfort and privacy in which to have your breakdown. Alright, a lot more comfort, but everyone’s misery was the same when you couldn’t see a way out of it. Like death, it was one of the greatest levellers.

So I signed the contract and sent it back to Shuri. I started looking around New York for somewhere I could set up shop. A warehouse, an underground bunker, anywhere. I didn’t care. I just needed some square footage where I could get back to my roots and start ripping things apart to see how they worked… and how I could make them better.

“I’m particularly interested in the ‘ripping things apart’ thing,” Stephen said one evening in bed as we discussed my progress. “I mean, just let me know in advance if you’re going to wear one of those tank tops, because I’ll need to have a lie-down afterward.”

I turned over on my side, head braced on my hand, elbow propped against the pillows.

“You like the tanks?” I asked, already knowing the answer. 

“A little sweat. A few muscles.” He was reading a musty old tome, sitting up, the book braced on his knees. Deliberately not looking at me. “What’s not to like?”

“Note to self. Wear more tanks. And get sweaty. Hey, we never did explore your _flawless_ British accent, by the way.”

“By ‘explore’ you mean…?” He finally looked at me. I swallowed hard, reacting to the low, smoky fire burning in his eyes. 

“Well, I was kind of hoping you could pretend to be Doctor Who and I could be your companion…”

“Pervert.” His rich chuckle made me shiver.

“You’re not saying no.”

“How about I pretend to be Sherlock Holmes,” he said, dropping effortlessly into that red-hot Brit-voice, “and you can be my Watson?”

I grabbed the book out of his hand, tossed it across the room, and rolled myself onto his lap, straddling his hips and pinning him to the bed. 

“I’ll be whoever the hell you want me to be,” I growled.

“Mine,” he said, linking his arms around my neck. His eyes had never seemed so wide, or so light. “I just want you to be mine.”

 

Stephen finally got his monitoring spells going, while I found myself ass-deep in nanite data. I was glad Shuri had volunteered to help, because while computer code was a third language (after English and Sarcasm), medicine was a whole new country. 

I found a new lab, and it was in the perfect location – mid-way between Peter’s apartment and Stephen’s Sanctum, I could stroll to work in the mornings, grab lunch at Peter’s, then walk home again. In fact I spent a good ten minutes day-dreaming about just that as I walked around the empty four-story building, Donna in her hover-carrier floating along beside me. Her sleep had settled a little – enough so that we were able to grab more shut-eye – but she still had fractious moments. 

Whatever was frightening her, it hadn’t gone away. It hadn’t got any worse… but it was still around.


	37. 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen hold a party to officially open Tony's business and announce Donna's guardians.  
> Donna is kidnapped.

“Man, this place is _awesome!_ ” Peter gushed a couple of weeks later. 

“Of course it is,” I said, guiding him through the building. “I basically made it.”

“Subtlety was never your strong point,” Stephen remarked.

“I can do subtle.” 

I pushed open the next set of double doors (making a mental note to get them on an automatic sensor) and, to prove my point, gestured all around us to the party. 

“See?” I said. “Low-key.”

I owned – or rather, Wakanda owned, and I leased – the entire building, which gave me as much lab space as I wanted, and also the space to convert a whole floor to living quarters. I still lived at the Sanctum, more or less, but I’d built a bedroom here, a lounge area, a nursery, and a kitchen… where I mostly stored take-out. Man, I missed N’Bene’s cooking. 

People turned at our entrance. I’d invited everyone who mattered, so now my lounge was filled with over a dozen Avengers. I had the music down low. Donna was being passed around, held longer by some than others, no sign of the fractiousness that had punctuated her waking hours earlier in the day. Everybody seemed fascinated by her. I could live with that. _I_ was fascinated with her. 

The Cloak trailed after her like a dog, always keeping some part of itself attached to her – a corner, the hem, a little bit wrapped around her leg. It was cute and yet at the same time reassuring. I knew from experience that the Cloak was able to look after itself in a fight; for sentient outerwear, the guy was top-notch. Stephen’s new gear, the Coat of Possibilities, was kinda stand-offish. 

“Stark parties used to be legendary,” Stephen murmured in my ear as we circulated. Peter peeled off and found Shuri; as he passed Donna – who was currently being held by Wong, the Cloak peering over his shoulder – she started crying again. Wong gave Peter a thoughtful look and started bouncing her a little in his arms, trying to comfort her.

“Stark parties are still legendary,” I said, distracted by the scene I’d just witnessed. “Just, you know, quieter. Is it me, or does Donna start crying every time Peter tries to pick her up?”

Stephen frowned. “I can’t honestly say that I’d noticed.”

“You’re not around him as much as me.”

“Maybe you’re imagining it. I know we’re both working hard to find out what’s upsetting her.” Unspoken, but understood, was his worry that we were working too hard. “My spells haven’t detected anything untoward, and your data analysis hasn’t come back with anything yet that we didn’t already know. And she doesn’t always cry – he held her when he came to visit us in Wakanda the first time.”

Weeks ago, I might have been stung by his words. Now I let it go. He wasn’t being combative. Not this time, anyway. He was just voicing his concern in his usual barely-people-friendly way.

“Coincidence, maybe,” I said, shrugging. 

That didn’t mean I was going to let it go. I didn’t like it, had no idea of the implications, but… this was the only lead we’d found so far.

 

I tapped a fork against my champagne glass to bring the room to order. I wasn’t drinking actual champagne – I didn’t trust myself with booze anymore, and never mind the fact that my head was in a much better place – but sparkling water still had bubbles, and that was enough. 

“Alright, alright,” I called. “Settle down, folks. Who’s been left holding the baby? You? No?” I looked at Nat, who smiled, shrugged, and pointed to Shuri. “Princess Peach? Help a guy out.”

Her eye-roll game was on a par with Petey’s, but he’d still win that match hands down. She nodded across the room.

“Yo,” Clint called, holding up a hand so I could see him. Fury and Bruce stood aside, giving me a better view. The sharp-shooter held Donna in the crook of one arm, his grip easy, his stance relaxed. This was a guy who was used to holding kids. I tried not to feel jealous, but damn – he looked better holding her than I did, and _I_ looked friggin’ awesome. The Cloak was curling around Clint’s legs, a corner clutched in Donna’s hand.

“OK, good, there she is.” I made a little-kid wave, knowing she probably wouldn’t be able to see me too clearly, but could hear me just fine. “So I guess you sad sacks are pretty much the only guys I can call friends, but you’re more than that. You’re family. And because we only have a finite shelf life, Stephen and I want to make sure that Donna’s properly taken care of in case something finally figures out how to take us down.”

The quiet that had settled over the assembled people – jovial, a few murmurs, a few jokes – turned into deadly silence. I had every eye in the room. 

“We wanted all of you here to help us celebrate opening the lab and finally getting my feet back on the ground,” I said, “but it also seemed like the perfect opportunity to announce Donna’s guardians.” We’d approached our choices separately over the last week or so. Every one of them had accepted. Nat – the only one of the three who hadn’t previously known Donna’s secrets – had sworn an oath to keep them, and the look in her eyes told me that she would keep that oath. “So to allow you lushes to get back to your day-drinking, I’m honoured to announce that in the event of our untimely, heroic and probably messy death, Donna’s legal guardians will be Natasha Romanoff, Shuri of Wakanda, and Wong.”

A patter of applause went around the room. Fury – wily old bastard – was looking at me with a thoughtful frown narrowing his single eye, arms folded. I looked for Peter and found him over by the buffet table, looking at Donna and Clint, a paper plate loaded with food held in both hands. 

For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of green cross his eyes. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed that, but each time I’d thought I’d imagined it. I was pretty sure I’d imagined it this time, too, because when I focussed, there was no sign of anything untoward. 

Just my kid, stuffing his face with food and trying not to be obvious about it.

 

Donna got passed around again. Nat offered to feed her; I had everything she’d need on hand, and was preparing to give her a lecture on holding the baby the right way, when Nat just kind of swooped in, settled on the couch, and got on with it. Of course she’d know how to do it. She was a spy, an infiltrator, and part of infiltrating was, apparently, knowing every goddamn thing. She even knew how to handle the Cloak – she gave it a single stern look and pointed at the end of the couch. There it settled, curling up and watching her in that eyeless way it had perfected.

What interested me more was the way Bruce was looking at her. Donna’s tiny hands batted greedily at the bottle, while Bruce watched, hands in pockets, from his position across the room. It was impossible to miss the yearning on his face. 

Whether it was for Nat alone, or for the life he’d denied himself with her – married, maybe with a kid of their own – I still felt for the guy. I had everything I hadn’t ever known I’d needed, and I felt blessed. Poor Bruce was still trying to forget that he even needed anything. I wanted to help them, but there was no way they’d take advice from me. I wasn’t even sure that I was qualified to give it. 

“So you found your Guardians of the Baby,” Fury said, sidling up as I stood and watched the others. “Cute. Though I _am_ surprised you didn’t ask your guy Rhodes.”

“Rhodey’s a soldier, he doesn’t want to be tied down by a kid.” I’d had enough conversations with him over the years to know that. “You’re just pissed I didn’t ask you, Groucho.” 

“Damn right I’m pissed you didn’t ask me. I also understand why you didn’t.”

“There’s no way Donna’s joining your Toddler Avengers group, so just get that out of your head right now.”

“She’s a magic baby, Stark.”

“Conceived by magic,” I grunted, tamping down my fear that one day he’d learn the truth. “Not the same thing.”

“So you say. But my feelings are still hurt.”

“You mean you actually have some?”

“Naw, I’m just messing with you, man. I’m glad your kid’s got some back-up. It’s a cold, hard world out there.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. 

 

“Tired of her already?” I asked Nat, maybe twenty minutes or a half hour later. I’d got distracted by Scott, and we’d spent time just shooting the breeze, exchanging baby stories. From the little I’d seen of her, his daughter was growing up into a tough cookie. He was going to have problems when she hit her teens. Hell, _I_ was going to have problems when my girl hit her teens.

“How could I get tired of this adorable little creature?” Nat replied, her smile wide and unaffected. I liked seeing her like this; she was the mistress of face, usually only putting out what she wanted you to see, whatever mood, look or action got her to the information she needed. But here she was relaxed, letting me see the real person behind all the personas. 

I remembered the first time we’d met, when she’d been – briefly – my replacement PA. The way she’d taken me down in the boxing ring had kind of given the game away, but still.

“So why aren’t you and the big guy all cuddled up with her now, working out a way to have one of your own?” I asked.

“The simple answer is that Wanda wanted to hold her,” she said. “The complicated answer… well, let’s just say Brue has got his issues, and I’ve got mine.”

I tensed at hearing Wanda’s name, then relaxed. I trusted her. I shouldn’t have to keep reminding myself of that, but it seemed that I still did. More importantly, the Cloak trusted her.

Wanda, it seemed, had passed her to Sam. Sam had passed her to Peter. With each new step in the chain, my anxiety grew; a little at first, barely more than a sense of unease, but when I couldn’t find Peter, that anxiety sky-rocketed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, locate Peter,” I said.

It took her a few seconds. “Boss, he’s not in the building.”

Hovering on the edge of panic, gripping the railing of the balcony that overlooked the lounge area, I scanned the room again and again, as if my eyes could somehow give me a different answer.

“Locate Donna,” I ground out. My fingers gripped the railing so fiercely my knuckles hurt, but I barely noticed the pain.

“Donna isn’t in the building either. The rest of the guests are present and accounted for.”

“ _Shit…_ someone’s taken them,” I said, running my hands through my hair, still scanning the room as if I could somehow conjure them both up. Panic pulsed behind my eyes, making them feel as if they were going to burst out of their sockets. “Run a full scan on the security systems! And where’s the goddamn Cloak?”

The few seconds felt like eternity, and all I could do was stand there, gripping the railing again. I couldn’t keep my feet still. If I let go I’d float away, or burn up, or just scream. 

“There have been no breeches in security. All systems are running at one hundred per cent efficiency. The Cloak of Levitation is currently in pieces by the elevator, boss.”

My feet were moving without any conscious command from my brain, taking me out of the lounge, making me run down the hall to the elevator. I could already see the Cloak – or what was left of it – and F.R.I.D.A.Y hadn’t been exaggerating; the relic had been torn into four ragged pieces that had just been abandoned on the floor. Each one trembled, unable to put themselves back together, the magic that allowed the garment to fly paralysed. Maybe forever.

“My God,” I said, skidding to my knees. “What the hell happened here?” 

I picked up the nearest piece of cloth. It shivered so violently I could barely hold it, and a second later I dropped it. I hoped like hell it couldn’t feel pain, because what had been done to it was just barbaric. What the fuck was going on here? Peter was gone – Donna was gone… oh, God, Donna was _gone._

Staggering to my feet, still staring at the ruined Cloak, I reached into my jacket and pulled out my cell. My hand was trembling so hard I almost dropped the phone.

“Send me security footage,” I said. “Show me Peter’s movements.” Even my voice was trembling now; the panic pulsing behind my eyes made it hard to see, and any minute now my throat was going to close up. But I couldn’t afford to give in. I had to keep my shit together. I _had_ to. 

Videos played across the screen, one after the other, clips F.R.I.D.A.Y had taken from the main feed and stitched together. I tracked Peter’s progress through the evening, from his entry to the building, to his movements around the lounge. I flicked through them. Nothing was of interest until –

Sam was talking to Clint. Peter wandered over. Donna started crying; Sam, laughing, handed her to Peter, clapping him on the shoulder. I didn’t need to hear them talking to get the gist of the conversation – Sam clearly though handling a crying baby would be good for the teenager. The adults wandered away, leaving them alone.

I wasn’t mistaking the flash of green in his eyes this time. And it wasn’t just a flash, it was a fucking blaze, the Cloak was flapping, Donna was screaming –

How the _fuck_ had I not noticed this? How had no one else noticed this?

Because a screaming baby was normal. It was an annoyance. It was background noise and dear sweet _mother_ of God, I was going to lose my fucking mind. 

Peter webbed the Cloak before it could cause a scene, balling it up tight and shoving it under his jacket. He left the lounge, my still-screaming daughter in his arms. F.R.I.D.A.Y tracked him to the elevator.

The Cloak broke lose, exploding out from under Peter’s jacket. It immediately rolled itself up and started throttling him. Peter – Donna held carelessly under one arm – reached up with the other arm and ripped the Cloak away from his neck, ignoring the red marks already marring his skin.

He tossed the Cloak onto the floor, webbed it down, and grabbed a corner. I watched – mesmerised, horrified – as he ripped a long strip through the cloth. The Cloak trembled. Peter ripped another strip away, then another, finally dissolving his webbing. What was left of the Cloak was the sad strips on the floor at my feet.

Then he got into the elevator, took it down to the main entrance, and left the building.

Peter had maimed the Cloak of Levitation. Then he’d taken my baby. 

And I had absolutely no goddamned idea why.


	38. 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers team work to locate Donna.

My first instinct was to rush off and find them both, but the experienced part of me stopped my mindless flight before I could hit the elevator call button. I took several slow, deep breaths, pushing the panic down. 

I picked up the shredded scraps of the Cloak and headed back into the lounge, looking for Stephen. He was talking to Wanda, discussing magic or the weather or the price of fucking eggs, but his eyes flicked to me. I don’t know what I looked like, but if my face was giving away a fraction of the shit I felt right now I must look awful. He held up his hand, stopping Wanda in her tracks, and immediately came to me. 

His mouth opened. He saw the sorry scraps of the Cloak, still writhing slowly in my hands.

“ _What…?_ ” He took the strips from my unresisting fingers, touching them gently until they stilled.

“Peter’s taken Donna,” I said. 

His eyes widened. I showed him the section of security feed where Peter’s eyes turned green. 

“I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,” I said, hearing the tremble in my voice, “but we have to find them.”

He didn’t waste time with pointless questions, and I loved him just a little bit more for that. But he did grip my arm, almost hard enough to hurt, the only comforting reaction he’d allow himself to give while we were in public. I was OK with PDAs, but Stephen was more private in his affections. 

“I may be able to track Donna’s magical signature,” he said. I fixed on his eyes, using them to keep me grounded, to stop me flying off the handle. “Wong, too.”

I swallowed. “Alright…” I pushed my feelings down deep. “I can get F.R.I.D.A.Y to hack into whatever security cams are outside the building, track them as far as I can.” I let out another short, hard breath. “We have to let the others know. The more people who’re out there looking, the better.”

 

The mood changed as soon as we told them. Sam actually apologised, but I waved it aside; Peter was one of us, goddamit it, so why would he think handing Donna over was a bad idea? There was no way he could have known that Peter was… whatever the hell was wrong with him. 

In just a few minutes, we’d gone from house party to business. People peeled away to investigate in whatever way they could. Stephen gated briefly back to Kamar-Taj to drop off the Cloak. I didn’t know if there was anything that could be done for it, and I was sorry; it had a personality all of its own, and it had liked me. It loved my daughter enough to choose her. And now, it had paid the price.

Stephen came back. He and Wong sat on the lounge floor, both cross-legged, hands moving as they worked on a tracking spell. Shuri was the only other person who’d stayed behind, and she joined me now as I hacked into the city’s traffic cams, offering silent support. I hacked into domestic networks, private businesses, municipal buildings. Anything that let me track Peter’s progress after he’d taken Donna.

I didn’t get far. He’d suited up as soon as he’d left the building, then webbed his way up high. After that…

“What the fuck is that?”

“Is that a _gate?_ ” Shuri asked, peering over my shoulder to look at the screen. 

Peter, my screaming daughter trussed up in a fucking _web_ and dangling under his arm, had just pointed at a section of the night sky. A green-rimmed gate opened. He swung through and it closed behind them. 

“Stephen!” I called. I didn’t want to disturb him while he was working magic, but he had to see this.

“ _No,_ ” he said, moving to peer over my other shoulder. “No, it’s not possible…”

“Talk to me.” 

“It’s not possible!” he said again, turning away from us. I jumped up and grabbed his arm, turning him back to face me. His eyes were wide and panicked. A bad sign: - _I_ was the emotional one, he was the one who was supposed to keep his cool.

“What is it?” I demanded. “What do you know about this?”

“That _is_ a gate. But he’s not using Earthly magic.”

“Talk English, Stephen.”

“He means the boy in the video is not really Peter.” Wong had given up his spell-casting to come watch the video. “Somehow, your daughter has been taken by the Nameless One.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Nothing about what he’d just said made a single goddamn scrap of sense. “Can someone take me to the fucking dimension when I understand what your best buddy just said?”

“It’s not _possible,_ ” Stephen said yet again. He seemed dazed, lost in his own head, not even looking at us.

“Come on!” I slapped his arm, harder than I’d intended, needing him to get his mind back in the game. “You’re the Sorcerer Supreme! _Something’s_ going on and you’re the only one who can make sense of this mess!” I gripped his shoulder, fingers digging in. If he felt it – if it hurt – there was no outward sign.

“I knew it seemed too easy,” Stephen muttered. He still wasn’t looking at us, but his eyes were flickering, still looking deep inside his own head. “He’s virtually a god in his own realm, why the hell would he just let us waltz in and –”

I grabbed both shoulders and shook him. His eyes finally focussed on me, and whatever he saw there – whatever panic, fear, anger – brought his mind straight back into the game. Shuri – maybe believing that I was just going to out and out punch him – moved closer, hands raised. When I let him go, she stepped back, though the wary look remained on her face.

“I believe Peter has been possessed by the spirit of the Nameless One,” Stephen said, his voice terse and clipped. “I was glad our mission to neutralise him was successful, but I couldn’t help feeling that it had gone too smoothly –”

“It _did_ feel like a text-book operation,” I said, digging back through my memory. “I mean those flying monkeys were a pain in the ass, and the dwarves were unexpected….”

“The Nameless One never once levelled a magical attack at anyone other than Wanda,” Stephen said. “The most supreme being in his dimension, and he made no real move against you?”

I’d noticed that at the time, but I’d been a little busy fighting off monkeys to think about it too much. 

“Wanda killed him,” I said bluntly. “Choked the life out of him. Explain to me just how the hell his consciousness, or his soul or whatever the hell you want to call it, ended up inside my kid.”

“His corpse,” Wong said.

We all looked at him. 

“The vessel housing his spirit exploded,” Wong elaborated. “I do not believe this kind of magic is possible in our own dimension, but in his, who knows?”

“That green goop was his spirit? But…” I shook my head. “Petey’s suit is a sealed unit. Once it’s on, it’s airtight.” 

“But are any of your suits designed to be spirit-tight?”

I didn’t know how Wong could be so goddamned calm about this, so logical. But then, it wasn’t his kid who’d been possessed and kidnapped his little girl. Suddenly I envied him his calm.

“Every part of his behaviour was designed to lure us in,” Stephen muttered. Dammit, he’d gone back inside his head again. I moved to grab his shoulders, ready for another shake, but he seized my wrists. “Don’t you see? The majority of his attacks in our dimension have been purposeless, without any clear direction or goal. He was baiting us!”

“So we’d, what, come knocking on his front door?”

“Exactly! My _God,_ how could I have been so stupid?” He let me go and wheeled away again, hand on his forehead. “He’s weaker in our dimension, just as I am weaker in his. Possessing Peter was his way of retaining his power when he crossed over!”

“And what the fuck does he want with our daughter?”

“Power. It’s always about power.” His voice was wild. “She has untapped magical reserves, potential abilities we can barely comprehend, and he could probably sense her even through the dimensional barrier. He’s going to…” He choked off what he’d been about to say.

“What? What is he going to do?” I demanded, though I was terrified I already knew the answer.

“He’s going to drain her dry.” His voice cracked. “If he does that, it’ll kill her.”

“We got played.” My voice was rough, trembling. I still felt as if I was on the edge of another panic attack. I needed to hold him, needed something concrete to keep me anchored down, but I was afraid he’d shake me off if I touched him again. “He knew exactly what we were gonna do, and we got played.”

He turned back, meeting my eyes. The emotion in them was staggering – literally staggering – because I took a few stumbling steps back, bowled over by his guilt and his shame. He blamed himself for this. What had happened wasn’t his fault – was so far from being his fault – but he couldn’t see it. If anything it was _my_ fault. I was the closest to Peter; I should have seen the signs, should have realised something was out of whack. What I’d thought was depression? Oh, just my kid trying to fight off some inter-dimensional monster.

“We’ll get them back,” I said, closing the distance between us. I pulled him into a hug, putting my own fears aside long enough to reach out offer the comfort he so clearly needed. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed, putting his arms around me. He buried his face against my neck. “Whatever it takes, we’ll get them back.”

 

Before we could even think about dealing with the Nameless One, we had to figure out where he’d taken his stolen ride. He’d opened up his own gate so he could be anywhere on Earth right now… or in any other dimension. My biggest fear was that he’d taken Donna to some other realm that Stephen had never heard of, and we’d never be able to find them.

I couldn’t allow myself to think about what the Nameless One was planning. If I let myself get caught up on that path, I’d never get away, and I had to keep my head as clear as possible.

Shuri – who I knew had remained behind to provide much-needed emotional support, and _God,_ was I ever glad of that – also came up with the best plan of action. She was barely older than Peter and it felt wrong to lean on her, but she’d already proven time and time again that she was probably the most mature person in the room. While Stephen and I were busy trying not to lose our goddamned minds, she – and Wong – were thinking the problem through, applying logic, and giving us answers. 

“The coding in Donna’s nanites is substantially similar to those in your suit,” she said. “There are differences, of course, but these have been well-documented and are still being analysed. We could write a program that tracks the electrical signature given off by her nanites.”

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You’re a genius.”

 

Shuri and I worked the tech angle, while Stephen and Wong took the magical side of things. And a few hours later, when I hit the jackpot, I blessed Donna’s differences, because they were the very things that were going to allow us to find her.

“Got it!” I called. “They’re in… England?” I peered at the holographic co-ordinates hovering in the air. Squinting – unsure whether my eyes were tired or just getting old – I picked up the co-ordinates, throwing them at the nearest blank wall. They morphed into the Google Maps image of Stonehenge.

Stephen, cross-legged on the floor opposite Wong, opened his eyes. When he saw the image his face tightened.

“It’s an ancient nexus of power,” he said. “It was built on the junction between several major ley-lines.”

If he’d been any other guy, I would have called bullshit. But as he trusted me to know what I was talking about when it came to anything with moving parts, I trusted him to know about all this Hogwarts crap. If he said Stonehenge was a nexus, well, fuck it, the place was a goddamned nexus.

“Right,” I said. “Open a gate, let’s go get this prick –”

“We need a plan,” Stephen interrupted. “We can’t just rush in there. The Nameless One has stolen Peter’s body, but Peter’s still inside, trapped in his own head. When we get him out of that body, whatever hurt we’ve done to him will remain.”

My mental forward progression came to a crashing halt. Why the hell hadn’t I considered that? Because I wasn’t thinking properly, that was why. I was so goddamn desperate to get Donna back, I hadn’t bothered to think through all the implications of Peter’s possession. My God, I wasn’t just a shitty father-figure, I was a _terrible_ one. My dad had nothing on me. He’d been a cold, distant, mostly absent schmuck, but at least he hadn’t let me go on missions where I could get taken over my some fucking alien entity so I could kidnap my baby sister – 

“Tony!” Stephen’s voice broke through my panic-laced thoughts. He was gripping my shoulders, his eyes burning, as if he thought he could somehow scorch a way through the mental fog around my brain.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “I, uh, I’m…” I shook my head. “Never mind. A plan, right, OK.”

I’d been about to say ‘I’m struggling’. Not only would that be unhelpful, it wouldn’t get us anywhere; Stephen was struggling, too, but he was just about managing to keep his shit together. I had to pull up my big-boy pants and get on with the business at hand.

 

We brain-stormed a plan. Simple was best. We’d grab Wanda on the way – extra fire-power – and together with Wong, the three magic users would keep Peter pinned down and hopefully unharmed. I’d swoop in and get Donna. Stephen was the only one who had the magical strength to incapacitate Peter, but he couldn’t guarantee how long he’d be able to hold him. During that time, however long it was, he had to get the Nameless One out of Peter’s body and destroy him once and for all. 

It sounded simple. There were so very many fucking different ways it could go wrong. 

“Alright,” I said, when we’d finished brainstorming the plan. “Shuri, can you stay here and co-ordinate with everyone already out in the field?” She nodded. “Alert the British Government, warn them there may be collateral damage –”

“I think they are already aware,” she said. She’d switched on the wall-mounted TV and turned to a world news network. We were seeing a helicopter’s-eye view of Stonehenge; the picture was shaky as hell, partially obscured by weird green-purple clouds.

“Works in our favour,” I grunted. “Let’s do this.”

 

We collected Wanda on the way. She was white-faced and grim, visibly scared but keeping her shit together. 

“I should have known,” she said, as soon as Stephen stepped through the gate to her apartment. “I fought him in his own dimension, I know the way his magic felt –”

“It’s not your fault,” Stephen growled. “You couldn’t have known. Inside Peter’s body, he’s virtually undetectable.”

But Donna had felt him. I didn’t like the implications of that, and from the look on Stephen’s face, he didn’t either; even with my limited knowledge of how magic worked, I knew what it meant. Donna had power, maybe even more than her Papa, the goddamn Sorcerer Supreme. At the very least, she was sensitive to magical fluctuations. 

“I still feel responsible,” Wanda said, head hanging. “If I had not killed him; if I had destroyed his body; if –”

“Honey,” I said, gripping her shoulder, tilting her chin up so that I could peer into her face. I thought she might pull away, but she stayed still. “Things happen. There’s no point beating yourself up over what you could have done differently. Believe me, I’ve been there, and it does you no good.”

“How do you live with your mistakes?” she said, voice trembling. She was on the edge of tears, her accent thicker than it had ever been. For all her power, she was still just a kid – a scared kid who’d made mistakes before, who’d been used as a weapon, who’d had her fears turned into a loaded gun. It was high time the adults in her life stepped up and actually did their goddamned job.

“It’s hard,” I said. There was no point sugar-coating this. She didn’t need that. “Sometimes you wake up in the morning and wonder just how the hell you’re even gonna get out of bed. But Wanda, what you did in that douchebag’s dimension, that wasn’t a mistake.”

She was trying to make the way she twisted her lips turn into a smile, but it wasn’t working.

“If it was not a mistake, we would not be here now.”

“You did your job,” I said. “Hey…” It wasn’t working. The first tears trickled down her face. Hesitating, looking to Stephen for support, I eased her into a gentle hug.


	39. 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen fights the Nameless One, while Tony rescues Donna and fights more Undying Ones.  
> Things get... weird.

England was colder than a witch’s ass.

Alright, I’m sure there were parts of England that weren’t colder than a witch’s ass – maybe only mildly Arctic – but right here, right now, I was freezing my balls off.

From my position high above, F.R.I.D.A.Y was able to track Stephen’s solitary progress across the fields surrounding Stonehenge. I couldn’t actually see him through the weird purple-green clouds, but the HUD on my visor told me he was there. 

Wong and Wanda were both magically cloaked, hidden from physical eyes as well as magical ones, but I knew from our briefing that they’d be approaching from flanking positions. My role was to stay out of sight, wait for the right moment, then swoop in and get my baby back.

I wanted it to be that easy. God, how I wanted it to be that easy.

“Boss, you’re shivering,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said. “Let me adjust the temperature in your suit.” A moment later, fresh warmth pulsed slowly along my joints, almost as good as the heated seats in a car. 

“I need some eyes down there,” I said. “Deploy the bugs, will ya?”

“Bugs away now, boss.”

The bugs were a new addition to the suit, a way for me to get audio and visual from anyplace where I couldn’t physically go. There weren’t really designed for situations like this, but if it got me what I needed, then I didn’t care.

A ball of nanites rose from my lower chest like a cloud, solidifying into three smaller spheres. They dropped away and out of sight. 

“Shields up,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced. “Bugs in place. Acquiring a live feed.”

Static covered my visor, white noise in my earpiece making me wince. A second later both the visual and audio feeds resolved.

“ – think that I wouldn’t find out?” Stephen was saying. He’d entered the circle of stones. Peter sat cross-legged on one of the fallen stones, the hood of his suit removed. Donna was trussed up like an insect in silk, held in the crook his arm. It was a fucking hideous parody of a big brother with his little sister, and it made me sick.

“You didn’t find out… before it was too late for you to stop me.” It wasn’t Peter’s voice that came out of his mouth, but something older. Deeper. Creepy as hell. “You’re young, _Sorcerer Supreme._ ” His tone was mocking. “Too young to see what was directly in front of your eyes. My plan would not have succeeded with your predecessor, but she had many centuries of stolen time.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, your plan hasn’t actually succeeded.” Stephen sounded bored, his arrogant worst, and I knew what he was doing – stalling, giving Wanda and Wong time to get into place, trying to keep Nameless off balance. “I defeated Dormammu. Through my machinations, I destroyed Thanos. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”

Peter threw his head back and laughed. The sound sent a violent shiver through my body, and I knew that for as long as I lived, I was never going to forget that sound. 

“Dormammu,” he said, the laugh tailing off into sick little chuckles. “That greedy pup, so consumed by consuming. And Thanos, the one they called the Mad Titan, so driven by his need to bring balance that he stood on the brink of destroying the Universe.” He shook his head. “There are worse things than them.”

Stephen stalked closer. “And you’re saying that you’re one of them?”

“Oh, no, I consider myself to be rather better. They lacked vision. Who cares about devouring when you can savour? Who cares about balance when you can rule absolute?” He stroked Donna’s hair; for a moment her screams intensified, and it took everything I had not to dive-bomb the stones and rip her away. “But my time in this dimension is limited, because the Herald is on his way, and you know what happens after that.”

Who – or what – the fuck was a Herald?

Stephen stopped. “No,” he said. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you wish. It doesn’t make it any less true –”

Wanda shimmered as she became visible, a scarlet bolt of energy streaking through the air. A second before it hit Peter, Wong became visible opposite, hands moving as he used magic to jerk Donna out of Peter’s arms.

That was my cue. I dived, cutting through the clouds, gathering speed as I plummeted. Wong held Donna above his head; I pulled up from my dive, skimming inches over the grass, angling upward. I grabbed Donna. The automatic programming cut in, enveloping her in the protective pod I’d built into the suit back in Wakanda. I climbed higher, diverting more power to the repulsors, putting much-needed space between us and the danger below.

I checked the scene in my visor again. Peter’s body was jerking, trying to break free from whatever mojo Wanda had hit him with. Now that Donna was out of the scene Wong braced himself and threw his arms out, sending another bolt of energy at Peter. The two of them together seemed to have him immobilised, without any obvious signs of damage, and I began to hope that we’d be able to get Peter out of this without hurting him –

The thing wearing Peter’s skin pushed out both arms, head bowed. The air rippled around him; something like a sonic boom threw Wong and Wanda back. Stephen threw up a couple of energy shields, covering himself from the worst of the blast, but Wong tumbled through an arch and came to stop in an untidy heap. Wanda hit one of the stones and didn’t move.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Come on, Stephen…”

He ditched the shields and ran forward, reaching into the pockets of his Coat of Possibilities. When his hands came out he was holding –

“What the fuck is that?” I said. “Rabbits, seriously?”

Stephen grimaced. The rabbits, each held by the ears, twisted in his grip, their mouths opening hideously wide to reveal rows of shark-like teeth. Shrugging, Stephen tossed them at Peter.

Peter waved a hand. The shark-rabbits cooked in mid-air, shrieking as the skin was ripped from their bodies. The shrieking stopped. I felt the blood drain from my face; if he could do that to animals…

Stephen leapt into the air, the Coat carrying him as easily as the Cloak had. His hands worked and golden vines erupted from his fingers, shooting over the space between them, wrapping around Peter’s body. 

Green light pulsed through the vines. Stephen threw his head back and screamed. If I hadn’t been minding Donna’s pod, I would have dived straight back into the action.

A gate opened in the air twenty feet away from me. A dozen flying monkeys burst into my air-space.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” I murmured, dragging my eyes away from the visor-feed, manually lowering the audio, “is it bad that I’m really, _really _glad I have the opportunity to beat the shit out of something that isn’t Peter?”__

__“I’m… not programmed to respond to that question, boss.”_ _

__“Sarcasm and sass you’re fine with, but this?”_ _

__I activated the thrusters and automatic evasive action program on Donna’s pod, trusting that it would keep her out of harm’s way while I hurt these monkeys._ _

__The first trio was closing in fast. I hit the closest with a palm-repulsor, sending it spinning off course, then punched the second right in its grinning mouth. I felt teeth shatter under my fist and let out a grunt of satisfaction. The monkey screamed and dropped. I grabbed the third around the neck, using my forward momentum to get onto its back, ignoring the beat of its wings against my suit._ _

__“I’m – trying – to – babysit,” I said, punctuating each word with a punch to the back of this asshole’s head. Its body went limp after the third blow, wings crumpling, and it dropped; I pulled away and climbed higher, aiming for the next knot of monkeys._ _

__A monster I hadn’t clocked hit me from the side hard enough to jar my ribs, even through the protective cushioning in the suit. Instinctively I turned away, trying to shield myself, when another one hit from the other side. The duel impacts were enough to rattle my brain. Pain radiated across my chest._ _

__“Suit integrity down to ninety-five per cent. Boss, you require urgent medical attention –”_ _

__“I just need to hit something,” I snarled, grabbing fistfuls of fur. Muscles screaming, the pain so intense I saw dark spots crowding my vision, I slammed the monkeys together. I did it again, this time managing to knock them hard enough that their wings fowled._ _

__The proximity sensors on Donna’s pod sounded in my ear-piece. Three Undying Assholes were chasing her down. Fuck _that._ I set off a couple of rockets, following after them._ _

__The rockets hit the first two monkeys, filling the air with burning feathers and fur. Their charred, still-burning corpses tumbled out of the sky, and I focussed on the third. Too close to the pod to risk hitting with another missile. I put extra speed into the repulsors and closed with the target, gabbing his wings and hauling back. Fresh pain rippled over my chest. I didn’t need F.R.I.D.A.Y to know that I was going to suffer for this. If I was lucky, it was just a cracked rib._ _

__Couldn’t think about that now. I planted my feet against the monkey’s back, getting a grip on the scruff of his neck so that I could drive my fist into the back of his skull. The prick had a thick head, so I did it again, and again, letting my rage drive each blow –_ _

__“Pull up, boss!” F.R.I.D.A.Y yelled. “Pull up or you’re going to hit the ground!”_ _

__I jumped at the last second, diverting all power to the foot thrusters to gain some height. The monkey’s corpse – of course it was a corpse after the number I worked on its skull – slammed into the earth, a broken, bloody mess. I looked at my gauntlets as I climbed. They were smeared with blood, flecks of white skull, and chunks of grey brain matter. I fought the urge to puke._ _

__There were four targets left and they were all going after the pod. But they weren’t getting it all their own way; the programming built into the pod kept it continuously moving out of harm’s way, and for the next upgrade I was definitely putting in some kind of laser weapons.  
I took out another monkey with a rocket, watching as the burned, shrieking body tumbled out of the sky, but they were wise to that kind of attack now – they moved apart, making me choose one target to go after. Fine by me. I picked one at random and put on an extra burst of speed. Mindful of the way the earlier pair had pulled a fucking Jurassic Park-style raptor attack on me, I kept a sharp eye on my flanks._ _

__When the attacks came I responded in a split second, letting myself drop. Their forward momentum had driven them into each other. When I glanced up, not only had their wings fouled together, but one of them had broken his neck – his ugly head flopped from side to side. Both plummeted out of the sky. Two down, one to go, but the sneaky little bastard was using the clouds for cover._ _

__I tried to track his heat signature. Too late – a crushing weight dropped on me from above, muscled legs wrapping around me, heavy fists pounding at the helmet of my suit. I activated the shock shield. The monster screamed but held on, even though his fur was burning._ _

__“Boss, suit integrity down to seventy-four per cent!” F.R.I.D.A.Y yelled._ _

__“Tell me something I don’t already know,” I mumbled, dazed. I was dimly aware that we were falling, and I tried to control our descent, but the monkey was riding me like a goddamned thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby. I shocked him again. He screamed and let go, but the ground was rushing up. There was no way I going to be able to pull up in time –_ _

__I grabbed the monkey’s clawed foot, hauling him back before he could escape, and rolled in the air._ _

__We hit the ground with so much force I think I blanked out for a moment. I couldn’t recall the exact moment of impact. Pain shook my whole body. I groaned, somehow moving onto my back, staring up at the purple-green clouds. Donna was up there somewhere._ _

__F.R.I.D.A.Y was yelling in my ear – suit integrity was down to like twelve per cent or something – but the words didn’t make sense. The only thing I understood was that Donna was in her pod, the gate was probably still open, and more of those fucking monkeys could come pouring through at any second._ _

__Somehow I managed to get to my feet. Bleary-eyed, desperately trying to focus, I watched the video feed from the bugs._ _

__“Volume up,” I croaked. “Goddamit, give me the fucking audio.”_ _

__Peter was hovering over the fallen stone, his body wrapped in multiple ropes of energy – orange from Stephen and Wong, scarlet from Wanda. Peter – the Nameless One – was screaming, and it hurt to look at him, hurt worse than the pain that made it hard just to stay standing. I had to get back into the battle, back into the air, keep the monkeys away from my little girl. My brain was ringing. I could barely string a coherent thought together._ _

__“The gate has closed, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced._ _

__“Well thank fuck for that.” I checked the heads-up display– Donna’s pod was still safe, undamaged, the precious cargo safe inside. With a massive effort I pushed off and into the air, trying to ignore the pain. Right – ignore something that was almost intense enough to cripple me, sure, OK._ _

__In less than a minute I’d reached the pod. Keeping a wary eye out for danger, I concentrated on the video and audio feed again._ _

__Everyone bore the marks of battle – Stephen’s face was bloody, Wanda’s arm hung limp at her side, and Wong was sat down, propped up against one of the stones, presumably unable to stand. Peter’s body twisted above the fallen stone, trying – and failing – to free himself from the magical rope._ _

__Teeth barred in a snarl, Stephen made an arcane gesture with one hand. Peter’s screams intensified and it broke my fucking heart, but I stayed right where I was, hands clamped over my helmet because of course that would block out the horrific sounds that were being piped directly to my ears._ _

__I watched as Stephen reached into his pockets once again. Christ, if he brought out another pair of shark-bunnies, I was gonna go down there myself and smack some sense into him._ _

__But what came out of those pockets wasn’t rabbits, or any other type of animal. It didn’t even look like a living thing, but as he threw it, it moved like one; small, square, glowing with orange light, as it travelled it seemed to open, becoming arcane netting. The two sections of net joined together in mid-air. Stephen made another violent throwing motion and the net wrapped around Peter._ _

__His screams intensified. The netting sunk beneath his skin._ _

__“Audio off,” I croaked. It was cowardly, but if I had to listen to the Nameless One screaming using Peter’s vocal cords for even a couple more seconds, I was going to go crazy._ _

__But I knew it was happening, even if I couldn’t hear it. His face… God, I’d never forget the look on his face. It would be etched in my memory, the way his mouth twisted in agony, the way his eyes screwed up. I stared, horrified, transfixed, as something that looked like acid-green mist rose from the top of Peter’s head._ _

__Stephen’s lips moved again. From the way he, Wanda and Wong all touched their foreheads, I guessed it was a command and not another spell._ _

__“ _What_ the… F.R.I.D.A.Y, enhance the visual!”_ _

__She zoomed in a little closer. I wasn’t imagining it – what I’d taken to be marks on their foreheads was actually a third goddamned _eye,_ and each one had opened wide and fixed on the mist hanging above Peter’s writhing body. My skin crawled and my stomach heaved, but I kept it down with a force of will._ _

__Each eye opened impossibly wide, growing to fill their entire foreheads, blazing with power. Tight, focussed beams of light exploded from their third eyes, hitting the mist dead centre._ _

__If I’d thought that third eye shit was freaky, it was nothing compared to what was happening to Peter. He was still screaming, mouth open wide, but now it gaped even wider, the skin of his cheeks stretching. I gagged, swallowed it down, closed my eyes. Breathed. Forced my eyes open again._ _

__Peter’s lower jaw sat somewhere on his chest. His head was back, eyes wide and staring, a long, serpentine tongue flapping around like a fish out of water. The mist above his head was shifting, morphing through shapes so quickly I couldn’t keep up. It streaked toward Wanda, but Stephen and Wong’s energy beam kept it from moving more than a few feet. It repeated the manoeuvre first with Wong, then with Stephen himself, both with the same results._ _

__When it moved toward Stephen, I found myself diving to help him, the neural interface with my suit kicking in before I could stop myself. I brought myself up short, hovering for a seconds before rising back to the pod._ _

__Right now I couldn’t do a goddamned thing to help Stephen, and that terrified me. All this mystical crap was his bag, and for the first time in ten years I understood what it felt like to be an ordinary person. Just a normal guy on the street, trying to keep his family safe from all the fucked up shit the Avengers kept throwing his way. It wasn’t the same as feeling helpless; I’d felt that way before, plenty of times, and it came from knowing that, despite all my technological experience, all my knowledge and intuitive leaps, there was nothing I could do to change my position. This other feeling, being the man on the street, that was new. And I didn’t like it._ _

__Gluing my eyes back to the live feed, it was apparent that the green mist was shrinking. Stephen’s face was locked into a snarl of effort. Wanda’s nose was bleeding, the blood smearing her lips and chin as bright as her magic. Lines of energy glowed along Wong’s shaved scalp._ _

__The green mist shrunk down to the size of a quarter. Then it exploded._ _

__White light filled my vision, so bright I saw it through my hastily closed eyes._ _

__“Cutting the live feed,” F.R.I.D.A.Y, said, her voice uncharacteristically terse. But still the white light invaded my vision. “Covering the visor.” Still it intruded, filling my eyes, my mind, my thoughts, until there was nothing left but an endless plane of white._ _

__

__When it cleared, I was… somewhere else. A beach. White sands as far as I could see. Holiday-brochure sky. Light waves out to sea, breaking gently on the shore, lapping over my bare feet. Warm water. Sand between my toes. Cargo short and an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt. OK, if this was Heaven or – more likely, Hell – cargo shorts? Seriously? Did I look like a cargo shorts kind of guy?_ _

__“You look like the kind of guy who’s still trying to work out who he is,” someone said, behind me. I turned to find a stunning young woman – maybe eighteen or twenty – standing a few feet away. She was wearing a blue-patterned sarong, revealing long, lightly-tanned limbs. Her elbow-length hair was dark, almost black, thick, with a curl at the ends. Grey eyes, a cute little nose, stubborn chin…_ _

__“Do I know you?” I asked. “You look kinda familiar.”_ _

__“You should know me,” she laughed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Or at least, you will. Hello, Daddy.”_ _

__“ _Donna?_ ” I wheeled away, running my hands through my hair, trying not to cry. “Well, fuck. Glad I made it to Heaven, especially considering I’ve never believed in the Big Guy and I’ve basically lived a terrible life, but I wanted one last chance to tell Stephen that I…”_ _

__“You’re not dead. This is just a… well, it’s too complicated to explain.” Gentle hands on my shoulders turned me around again. “Right now another version of me is having the same conversation with Papa. And Wong, and Wanda, and Peter.”_ _

__“Peter’s OK?” I stared, trying to etch her face – the way she stood – even the sound of her voice into my memory. I wanted to believe that Donna would grow up to be this beautiful woman, but if I wasn’t dead, I was pretty sure I must be hallucinating, and that this was just a projection of what my mind wanted._ _

__“If that was the case,” Donna said, plucking a thought directly out of my head for the second time rather than actually answering my question, “Papa would be here instead of me, and you’d have a couple of towels, a box of condoms, and a bottle of –”_ _

__“Do _not_ finish that sentence!” I interrupted, holding both hands up and backing away. “My God, let me get used to the idea that you’re gonna be a fucking teenager before you start hitting me with that crap!”_ _

__“Language, Daddy.” She laughed again, for a moment looking so like Stephen that my heart clenched. Where was he? Where was _I?_ Were we both dead in a goddamned field in England?_ _

__“I told you, you’re not dead.” Even irritated, she sounded just like Stephen. “Consider this a near-death-experience, if it makes you feel better.”_ _

__“Not really. But you’ve brought me here for a reason… or my brain’s brought me here for a reason… or… I don’t know, I’ve got nothing.” I shook my head. “Just hit me, baby girl.”_ _

__She rolled her eyes. “I warn you now, I’m going to hate it when you call me that. As to why you’re here, well…” She smiled, impish, utterly captivating. “I’ll leave that for Papa to work out.” She held my shoulders, leaned in to kiss my cheek. Her hair brushed my face. “Oh, and while I think of it, don’t give me strawberries. I’m going to be violently allergic. As in, I’m gonna puke all over your shoes, kind of allergic.”_ _

__“Noted,” I said, trying to hold on to some sense of reality as a wave of dizziness washed over me. The sand between my toes turned into cotton wool – or maybe that was the feeling behind my eyes – or the sensation of sun on my skin._ _

__My eyes filled with white again. My last clear memories were the sound of the waves lapping over my feet, Donna’s mischievous laughter, and her broad, happy smile._ _


	40. 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen deal with the aftermath.

I came to on a gurney. I groaned – you know, just getting it out there before the pain kicked in – and then the pain _did_ kick in, and I groaned again.

“What the hell’s happening?” I demanded, clutching my head with one hand, looking around the room. Utilitarian walls; lingering smell of old people; scratchy sheets. Yeah, hospital.

“Oh, thank God.” Stephen loomed into view beside me. He looked terrible – his already-pale skin was like paper, huge dark circles under his eyes, his cheekbones even more prominent than usual. He was still wearing the Coat of Possibilities.

I frowned. “You may be more right than you know. Did you see…?” I trailed off. How the hell did I even begin to verbalise what I’d experienced?

“Oh, I saw her.” His eyes widening with something like wonder, he pulled his chair close, his hands fumbling to hold mine. The tremble in his fingers was much more pronounced than usual. “I’m still trying to work out what happened.”

“She, uh, she said she’d leave that part to you…” I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Our daughter. I met our daughter. From the future, or… God, I don’t know.”

“Well, I was going with astral projection,” Stephen said with a nonchalant shrug, “but this is new territory, even for me.”

“How can our kid astral project her way-too grown-up self?”

“I don’t know. It’s giving me a headache just trying to work out the math required for the magic.” His eyes sharpened. “But that’s a problem for later. You should get some rest, Tony.”

“Nice try. Tell me about Peter.”

“He’s… resting.”

“Resting?” I pulled my hands away so that I could prop myself up on my elbows; I struggled, the movement sending pain through my chest. I ground my teeth together. “Don’t bullshit me. Just… just give it to me straight.”

Stephen sighed. “Alright. He’s in a coma. In the next room, actually. He sustained some minor damage to his body – unavoidable – but we destroyed the Nameless One.”

“For real this time?” I asked. “No jumping to another body, no risk that the asshole’s possessed anyone else we care about?”

“He’s dead. He’s as dead as we could make him.” His scowl made his face seem even gaunter, and I wondered whether he’d had any rest since the fight. Then I wondered just how much time had passed.

“And Donna?” I’d assumed she was safe and well – nothing in his demeanour had suggested otherwise – but the truth was, I was almost too frightened to ask. 

“She’s fine.” Stephen’s smile was natural. “I’d been awake for about five minutes when a nurse came in with a phone call from Ramonda.”

“How the hell did she get back to Wakanda?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to find some scrap of patience to get me through this conversation without just screaming for answers that Stephen clearly didn’t have yet. 

“That’s… well, that’s something I’m still trying to work out.”

“Can you at least tell me about Wong and Wanda?”

“Wanda broke her arm. She’ll recover, in time. Wong… he broke his back when the Nameless One threw him against one of the stones.”

“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry,” I said, stomach roiling from the guilt. Christ. It was like Rhodey all over again.

“Injury does not have to be a life sentence for sorcerers. He will walk again.”

“You sound real sure of that.”

“I _am_ sure of that.”

“Take your word on it.” He was the Sorcerer Supreme and in this, I was in no position to argue. “I want to see Peter.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said you needed to rest. You’ve got two cracked ribs.”

“Not the first time. Pretty sure it won’t be the last. Did anyone call May? Where are we, anyway?”

“Hospital back in New York. I have no idea how we wound up here, but I’ve got some theories.”

“I’m sure you have.” He wouldn’t be the Sorcerer Supreme if he didn’t. “But you didn’t answer my question about May.”

“I called her,” he said, grimacing. 

“Did she slap you?”

He turned his head, revealing the faint outline of a hand-print against his face. I winced.

“She does know it’s not your fault, right?”

“I took full responsibility.”

“But it’s not –” The guilt rose up in me again, thick enough to choke on.

“We’re not playing the blame-game here. I told you, I take full responsibility, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

“Prick.”

He leaned over and kissed me, his lips gentle against mine. I reached up, the movement jarring my ribs, and pressed my hand against the back of his head, holding him in place a moment longer. When he finally eased back, his eyes were blazing. 

“I love you,” I croaked, unwilling to let him go. “When I went…” I shook my head. “I don’t know _where_ the hell I went, but when I went there? That was the one thing I wanted to do. Tell you one last time that I loved you.”

His laugh was shaky. “You stole my thunder, because that’s exactly what I was going to say. I suspect we said much the same things to Donna in our… hell, I’m just going to call it a shared vision until I can work out what happened.”

“I can live with that. She, uh, did she tell you not to give her strawberries?”

“She did, and I intend to heed that warning. There’s only so much projectile vomit one man can deal with in his life-time.”

I let out a soft laugh, clutching my ribs, ignoring the pain. “Dude, you’re in for a world of surprise.”

His lop-sided grin made my heart melt. Just a little bit.

 

It took some manoeuvring, and a couple hours arguing with the nurse, but I eventually managed to get my ass out of bed. I wanted a shower but I was already hurting from putting on clean clothes, and I wasn’t really up for wrestling with a towel just yet. What I did do – slowly – was walk out of my room and into the one next door.

May was sleeping in the visitor’s chair, head propped on her fist. Peter lay in the bed, unmoving apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. He looked so… God, so pale and vulnerable. A barely-seventeen-year-old boy. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what this would do to him when he woke up.

Scratch that. I knew _exactly_ what it was going to do, because I’d lived through a version of this myself. When Wanda got in my head, played on my fears to encourage me to build Ultron… yeah, when I’d realised what I’d done, when I’d had to deal with the consequences… and Peter was still so _young._

May woke up. She glowered when she looked at me.

“Why couldn’t it have just been depression?” she growled. “Drugs? Booze? You know. Something normal.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Normal? Right.”

“You know what I mean.”

I sighed and came to stand on the other side of Peter’s bed, dragging over a stool.

“I do know what you mean. Look, I know Stephen’s taken responsibility for this, but I –”

“Save it,” May said with a dismissive shake of her head. “I lost my temper with Stephen and I guess I need to apologise for that when I see him again, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I can’t stop blaming other people for Petey’s choices.”

“Uh…”

“He’s young. He’s going to make mistakes.” Her voice was heavy as she glanced down at him. “Most kids, they make a mistake they wind up drunk, or pregnant, or stripped naked and cable-tied to a lamp post.” At widened eyes, she shrugged. “What? I was young once. The point is that when you guys make mistakes, or take the wrong choice, people get hurt. _You_ get hurt.”

I sighed. “Yup.” There was no way I could counter what she’d just said, because it was true.

“But I can’t stop him. I won’t stop him. He’s helping people, and if a group of other superheroes can’t keep him out of trouble, well, then I guess no one could.”

Wow. That was a surprisingly balanced way of looking at it, considering that she’d raised him as her own son.

“It’s our curse,” I said. “We have to find our own way.”

May took his hand, squeezed it. “Your daughter… she’s OK?”

“She’s safe.”

She slumped. It was clear that she was exhausted.

“Look, why don’t you go take a nap?” I suggested. “I can sit with him for a while.”

 

The hospital discharged me later that day. Stephen took me back to Wakanda, where we collected Donna from Ramonda. I had a weird moment when I first laid eyes on my daughter – the memory of her as an adult trying to lay itself over her baby form – and then my eyes cleared, and it was just the baby again.

She gurgled as Ramonda handed her over, toothless mouth split in a gorgeous little grin. I stroked her face, gently tugging on a lock of her hair. She grabbed my finger.

“How did you get back here?” I murmured. Of course she couldn’t answer me, but that didn’t stop me asking the question.

“She materialised in my arms,” Ramonda said. “I have seen some things in my time, but that was one of the most remarkable.”

“One way of putting it,” I remarked. Ramonda, smiling, left the room, giving us a little privacy.

As soon as she was gone, Stephen drew me into his arms, keeping Donna sheltered between us. She waved at him with her pudgy hands. He caught one gently between his long fingers, kissing her palm. 

I fixed this moment in my head.

 

A week passed, and Peter still didn’t wake up. Physically he was fine – the doctors couldn’t find any reason for his coma – but Stephen advised that it could take time for his mind to recover from the mental trauma of fighting with the Nameless One. That he’d held out as long as he had was a testament to his mental strength, but I doubted Peter would see it that way. I knew Fury was waiting in the wings, just ready to swoop in as soon as he woke up, desperate for any information the kid could share. He’d be shit out of luck – whatever Peter knew, whatever he remembered, it would be a cold day in hell before I let him share a single goddamn thing with Fury. He styled himself as the protector of the Earth, the only man with the vision to see what needed to be done and the balls to carry it through, but the arcane? Threats from another dimension? That was all on Stephen and the other sorcerers.

I knew that nothing I said to Peter would make him feel any better, when he finally woke up. That didn’t stop me spending time deciding what I was going to say. Unspoken – but still at the front of my mind – was the fear that he wasn’t _going_ to wake up. Stephen thought he would… but he couldn’t say when.

“I think I’ve worked out what happened at the end of the battle,” he announced one evening a couple of weeks later. Donna was asleep in her Moses basket, and we were curled up on the couch in my new lounge. I hadn’t done an awful lot of work – tinkering with the suit, mostly – still worried about Peter. 

Shuri hadn’t pushed about delivering any of the projects I was working on. My contract with Wakanda couldn’t get any better; I didn’t have any deadlines, no bottom line to reach, no minimum work load. I could work as little or as much as I wanted, provided Shuri got to look over my designs. I was OK with that. I trusted her to not abuse her power. That didn’t mean I wasn’t squirelly enough to put top-level security on whatever I designed.

“Well, I was just gonna go with ‘weird shit’,” I said, dragging my wandering mind back to the conversation. “I mean, that works for me.”

“Sorcerer Supreme,” Stephen dead-panned. “That does _not_ work for me.”

“Alright. What’s your theory?”

“We invoked the magic of our third eyes,” Stephen explained, gesturing to his forehead. “When I first arrived at Kamar- Taj, my predecessor, the Ancient One, took exception to my attitude –”

“Can’t think why,” I interrupted.

He nudged me. “As punishment for my hubris, she opened my third eye and exposed me to just a glimpse of the multiverse. But it’s used for more than just seeing.”

“Again, can I just go back to the ‘weird shit’ answer?”

“Do you want to learn something, or not?”

“By all means, oh wise master of the arcane, regale me with your knowledge.”

“You little shit. I bet your teachers hated you.”

“Yeah, but mostly because I already knew more than they were able to teach me.” I shrugged. “I can’t help being a genius.”

“And so modest, too.” That light was back in his eyes, making them seem lighter.

“It’s one of my failings,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “I mean, I’m trying to be less modest about things, but it’s just so hard.” He laughed, not even trying to hide it. I loved being able to make him laugh. “Alright, alright, third eye, go on. You have my undivided attention.”

“As far as I have been able to determine, when we forced the Nameless One’s spirit out of Peter’s body, our attack caused it to shrink and become super-dense –”

“Super-dense spirit, uh huh, right, I’m with ya.”

“Tony…”

“Never said I wouldn’t make comments.”

“I can save this for when you’re not being an asshole…”

“You’ll be waiting a long time, buddy.”

“Remind me again why I’m in love with you?”

“You got time for that list?”

“I’ve got time to share information with you. That doesn’t mean I have the patience.”

I grinned. “Sorry, man. I just like messing with you.”

Low fire burned in his eyes. “As do I,” he said, his voice dropping. “And I will remember this conversation… later.”

Oh boy. He was totally going to make me pay for being a dick. I’d enjoy it – eventually – but before we reached that point, he was going to drive me out of my goddamned mind. 

I cleared my throat. “Third eye, super-dense spirit, go on.”

“A tremendous amount of magical energy was released when we finally destroyed the Nameless One’s spirit cloud,” he explained. “The energy was sufficient for Donna’s background magical field to be able to interact –”

“Back up. I’m lost.”

He recognised my interruption as genuine confusion rather than just me being a douche. Although I’d be the first to admit that it was a fine line, most days.

“All beings possess a level of background energy,” he explained. “Sorcerers are able to tap into our own fields to fuel our spells. Donna’s background levels, even as a baby, are at comparable levels to my own – a seasoned, trained sorcerer.”

“Alright.” I’d accept that at face value, without thinking about it too hard. “So you’ve got, what? Two fields of energy interacting with each other?”

“Essentially, yes. I still don’t fully understand the physics involved, but the end result was that a future version of our daughter able to reach back through time, pluck us all from the field of battle – including her younger self – de-activate your suit and her own pod, deposit the adults in the hospital and her baby self with Ramonda.”

“Isn’t that kinda like a _Dallas_ cop-out?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Come on, man, you must watch TV. _Dallas,_ who shot JR, really big hair? No?” I sighed. “Honestly, you’re shit-hot with music, but your lack of TV knowledge shocks me.” He made an impatient growling noise. “Look, JR was this big-shot asshole in a show. Someone shot him. There were about a million theories, but I think the writers didn’t actually have a clue how to wrap it up, so he just woke up and it was all a dream.”

“I find your analogy frankly baffling, Tony.”

I rolled my eyes. “Something happened, we don’t really understand it, we woke up from something that felt like a dream.”

He snorted. “I _will_ understand it. One day.”

I grinned, letting that one go. “Alright. So we’ve got the how – kind of – but what about the why? Why did she suddenly magic us out of there?”

Stephen’s expression instantly shuttered. “I don’t know.”

“Cut the bullshit. Tell me what you know.”

He raised his eyes back to mine. “The battle site… it’s a death-zone, Tony. What we left behind – what the Nameless One left behind… everything’s dead. The animals, the plants.”

Nausea gripped my stomach. “People?”

“No, thank God. The British Government enforced an exclusion zone as soon as the mist came down. They closed the roads and evacuated all of the nearby villages. But if we’d stayed inside the stone circle any longer…”

It hit me, then, really hit me, what Donna – or future-Donna – had managed to achieve. Not just saving our asses. She’d manipulated _time._ How she’d done it, I didn’t have a goddamned clue, though I was sure Stephen had a few ideas.

“We’re gonna have to keep this kid locked up,” I mumbled, looking down at the Moses basket. “Like, forever. The rest of her natural life. No boyfriends, no wild parties, no saving the world. _Nada._ ”

Stephen’s smile was faint, but visible. “But then she can’t reach back through time to save us.”

“Oh my God. I’m gonna forget you ever said that.”

“Do you need something to take your mind off all the magic?” he enquired, his tone mild but the gleam in his eyes anything but.

I latched onto the lifeline. “Just shut up and kiss me, already.” 

“I don’t know. You’ve got these cracked ribs…”

“You wanna see me throw a tantrum?”


	41. 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen try to help Peter.

It was another week before Peter finally woke up. The hospital gave us the news. We debated bringing Donna with us, but in the end Stephen suggested that Peter probably wasn’t ready to see her, not so soon after waking up. We left her with Ramonda again.

May was coming out of his room as we approached. Her face was drawn, her eyes tired, but she was smiling. She hurried over to us and hugged me. She turned to Stephen, who was hanging back – hoping she didn’t intend to slap him again, maybe – but she pulled him down into a hug, too. 

“How is he?” I asked.

“Shaken,” she admitted. “He… well, remembers everything that happened. I tried talking to him, but I think he needs you guys now more than ever.”

 

Peter was sitting up in bed when we entered his room. He looked frail and so young I just wanted to hug him. Poor kid. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the far wall.

“This is exactly where we should be,” I said, taking the seat on one side of him. Stephen moved to take the other seat; wherever Peter looked, he’d have to acknowledge one of us. “Sit up. Properly, come on, scooch forward.”

“What?”

“Don’t argue. Just do it.”

A puzzled look on his face, he obeyed, finally looking at me.

I hugged him.

He tensed, arms down at his sides, but I didn’t let go.

“None of this is your fault,” I said in his ear. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I don’t. Stephen doesn’t.”

“It _is_ my fault…” His ragged voice made my heart clench, and I hugged him harder. 

“It goddam is _not_ your fault. I’ll keep saying it as many times as I have to before it gets through your thick skull.” I rapped my knuckles against the back of his head; he flinched but didn’t pull away. 

I felt his arms close around my back, tentatively, as if he expected me to suddenly pull away and start whaling on him. He pressed his face into my shoulder. I met Stephen’s soft gaze.

A moment later Peter started crying. His shoulders shook with his effort to hold it in. I held him a little tighter, feeling the rest of his thin body shaking. I didn’t want this for my kid. I didn’t want any of this. But I knew he’d never give up being Spider-Man, just as I could never give up being Iron Man; they were a part of who we were, and that meant we had to accept the rough with the smooth, to try to find a way to live with some of the things we’d done.

 

When he was done crying he asked about Donna. He seemed relieved that she was OK, but when Stephen made a passing reference to the Cloak, what little lightness he’d regained seemed to drain away.

“It can be repaired,” Stephen insisted. “It will take time, and a lot of magic, but it can be repaired. It chose Donna and I intend to return it to her.”

Despite all my carefully rehearsed statements and motivational speeches, nothing we said seemed to change his mind-set. I wasn’t so naïve that I thought this was a problem we could fix overnight – I knew only too well that trauma like that took time to heal, if it ever _could_ be healed – but I’d hoped for something, some sign that he forgave himself. 

We let him be after an hour or so, when it became clear that our presence was tiring him. He didn’t like being told that he had to take a nap – “I’ve been asleep for two fucking weeks!” – “ _Language,_ kiddo,” – but accepted that we were leaving, especially when I promised to bring him some decent snacks with our next visit, rather than hospital food that tasted just the wrong side of ass. 

“One last thing to consider,” Stephen said as were half-way through the door. “It was pure chance that you happened to be close enough to the Nameless One’s corpse when it exploded.” I wondered where he was going with this, but I said nothing, letting him finish. “If you hadn’t moved closer, in all likelihood it would have been Wanda’s body he would have taken.” He paused for a moment, letting that sink in. “Though she’s a powerful witch, I do not believe she would have had the mental resistance necessary to hold him at bay for as long as you did. You fought him, Peter, and for that, I am proud of you. Proud as hell.”

We left him in his room, mouth gaping, completely pole-axed. 

“Nicely done,” I murmured as I closed the door behind us. 

“I meant what I said,” Stephen replied. “I’m as proud of him as any father could be. I guess I’m his… step-father?” he asked, hesitating, wincing at the words. “Never pictured myself as a parent. Oh, God, I’m a parent.” His eyes rose to the ceiling.

“It gets you like that,” I grinned. “Come one. Let’s go home.”

 

Peter was released from hospital the next day. When we came to collect him, he told us that Fury had visited not long after we’d left.

“What did you tell him?” I asked, keeping my tone mild. It was absolutely up to him what he told that old bastard, and I know that he looked up to Fury – had been overjoyed at the official invitation to join the Avengers, regardless of the fact that I’d already given him an in – but because of that, he might feel compelled to spill everything he knew. And ‘everything he knew’ involved secrets about Donna that weren’t his to spill.

“Only the facts,” he said, swallowing hard. 

“You didn’t tell him anything about Donna?”

“No way! I just wanna forget it ever happened. She’s like my little sister, man. I can’t…” He swallowed again. “I’m gonna do everything I can to keep her safe. I promise.”

“I believe you.”

 

I was back on Quill’s ship. It was dead in the water (space water or… whatever…) and I knew I was next. Nebula would probably live longer than me – she was a tough, determined psycho bitch, and I was pretty sure her rage was enough to sustain her. Me? Not so much. 

So I sat, tried to conserve energy, tried to dream of Pepper. I looked out through the window, letting my eyes drift through the void.

A silver man on a surfboard rode past the ship.

 

I woke, body slick with sweat, trying to claw the blanket away.

“You OK?” Stephen murmured, sitting up.

I stared at him, breathing hard, trying to sort through the scattered images in my dream.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “It was a nightmare. I think.”

“You think?”

I settled back against the pillows. Stephen opened his arm. I wriggled closer to him.

“It didn’t frighten me like the others,” I admitted. “But it felt wrong.” I hesitated. “You know,” I said, “back at Stonehenge the Nameless One said something about ‘the Herald’. We never did talk about that…”

Stephen tensed. I had no idea what had made me bring this up now.

“You know what he was talking about, don’t you?” I demanded, pulling away, propping myself up on my elbow so that I could look down into his face.

“It’s… a problem for another day,” he admitted.

“How far ahead?”

“I don’t know.”

“I saw a silver man in my nightmare.”

His eyes closed.

“We have time,” he said. “We still have time.”

“How much?” 

It was always going to be this way. Something threatened the Earth. We fought. We bled. We saved the day – or not – and avenged the fallen. 

“I don’t know,” he said again, covering his face with both hands. 

“Is any of the brown stuff gonna hit the fan within the next couple of hours?”

He groaned. “No.”

I eased his hands away from his face. “Then remind me what we’re fighting for,” I said, twining my fingers in his. “Remind me of all the people we have to protect.” I leaned down, kissed him. “Remind me while I’m still alive. Why I didn’t drink myself to death on _The Black Hole._ ” I kissed him again, deeper, easing my tongue past his lips. 

His arms closed around me, one hand sliding beneath my tank, the other cradling my neck. He eased me onto my back, mindful of my cracked ribs, his legs straddling mine.

“I love you,” he moaned against my mouth. “I love that you try to do the right thing, even if it means hurting yourself. I love that you gave me Donna, even though she could have killed you.” His breathing was rough, fingers stroking the side of my face. “I love that you stepped up for Peter. God, I love that you love _me._ ” He pressed his face against my shoulder, letting his body roll to the side, arm stretching possessively over my stomach.

“We’ll get through this,” I said, half-turning, wincing as the movement jarred my ribs. “Just another threat, right?”

They could keep on coming till the cows came home. Earth had its protectors; on the ground, in space, throughout time, looking forward and back. We were a team and no matter what happened, we would defend our home. 

And me? This was _my_ home. Stephen. Donna. Peter. Wherever they went, I lived there, too.

 

THE END


End file.
